


Huntresses and Foreigners V2

by Dan_Francisco



Series: Long War Slog [1]
Category: Battlefield 4 - Fandom, Call of Duty (Video Games), Half-Life, Overwatch (Video Game), RWBY, Star Wars - All Media Types, Stargate SG-1, Team Fortress 2, XCOM (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Gen, Portal Fantasy, XCOM Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 14:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 69,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18263651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dan_Francisco/pseuds/Dan_Francisco
Summary: Weiss Schnee finds herself teleported to Earth after a Dust experiment gone wrong. Thrust into the middle of a guerrilla war and unable to get home, Weiss must help fight the aliens and hope that XCOM can deliver on their promises to get her back.





	1. Terrifying New World

**Author's Note:**

> Total rewrite of my earlier fic, Huntresses and Foreigners. Both will exist concurrently as I believe the first fic should stand to remind myself how far I've come since then. Many thanks to my various friends who helped me figure stuff in this out, including but certainly not limited to TinyOctopus, Ejomatic, Cassakane, Deos, ArcAngelofJustice, Corru, and anyone else I may be forgetting!

Weiss had been in stranger situations, truth be told.

 

And yet, none of her years as a Huntress could ever have prepared her for this. What had happened? Right, she was experimenting with Dust, in an attempt to boost Mytrenaster's powers. She couldn't remember what had happened exactly, but she remembered the experiment had gone wrong.

 

So where the heck was she?

 

Weiss looked to the sky, staring at trees that reminded her of the Emerald Forest. It was uncomfortably familiar – the trees here were taller than in the Emerald Forest, and the sky wasn't one she recognized. Not even the wildlife sounded like she knew. Off in the distance, she heard something that _should_ be familiar, the roar of engines, but like so many others, it was different enough that it only caused panic. Everything was so close, but so far in memory.

 

She stood up, brushing off the dress she had worn to Beacon. _Wait, what?_ Why was she in this? She hadn't fit in that for years. Sensing something was incredibly wrong, Weiss picked a direction and ran, hoping it could lead her to water. She ran over rocks, down valleys, and dodged trees on her path to find water. After a few minutes of haphazard running, she came across a small creek, just clear enough that Weiss could peer into it and see her reflection.

 

It wasn't her mind playing tricks on her – she had lost three years on her face. It explained the old outfit – somehow, someway, Weiss had traveled back three years in time, but where to? This clearly was not the Emerald Forest. This was no place on Remnant she knew. Nothing made sense.

 

From behind her, Weiss heard a twig snap, and someone called out in a strange language. On instinct, Weiss drew Myrtenaster, prepared for battle.

“Don't move!” she challenged. “Where am I?”

 

In front of her stood five people. The apparent leader had a five-o-clock shadow, a knife strapped to his chest and outfitted in dark green and brown tactical clothing. A woman holding a rifle and with purple hair eyed her suspiciously, while the other three men split their attention between watching Weiss and scanning the area for… something. These didn't look like the Hunters and Huntresses Weiss knew from home. They reminded her more of Atlesian soldiers.

“You… don't speak German?” the man with the knife said, gesturing for the others to lower their weapons.

“What's German?” Weiss asked, her grip unrelenting.

“Well,” the strange man said. “You're in Germany. It's a fair assumption that you speak German. But, right, you don't know what that even _is.”_

“Okay, I'm in this… 'Germany,' I guess. Who are _you?_ ”

“Let's just take a breath here,” he said, holding his hands up non-threateningly. “Can you maybe put your sword away?”

“It's not a _sword,_ ” Weiss mocked. “It's a multi-action Dust rapier. And no, I will _not_ be putting it away until I'm satisfied with your answers.”

 

His face twisted in confusion. “Multi…? You know what, never mind.” He placed a hand over his chest. “I'm Central Officer Bradford. We picked up a strange signal emanating from here, followed by an unusual explosion. Should I assume you're part of that?”

“What if I am? And who's 'we'?”

“I'm part of an international team fighting a resistance war against the aliens. We have a ship we use to keep ourselves from being tracked down and wiped out. I can take you to it, we have plenty of food, doctors to take a look at you -”

“I'm not sick,” Weiss retorted, stepping closer and raising the tip of Myrtenaster to level with his face. In response, the other soldiers raised their rifles again, taking aim at Weiss. “Tell me how to get back to Mistral,” she demanded, ignoring the soldiers.

 

“Central,” the woman said, “please give me permission to shoot her, yeah?”

“Not now, Lieutenant,” Bradford said, before turning back to Weiss. “I can't do that.”

“Why? Because you're associated with the White Fang? I should have known it.”

Bradford sighed, putting up a hand to stop her. “Stop moving. I have a sniper that has his scope right over your head. You take another step towards me, he's going to shoot you. I'd rather not do that today.”

“You're bluffing,” Weiss said. “I don't see anyone. Dust loses its effectiveness at extreme ranges.”

 

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don't know what you think this 'Dust' technology is, but you're dealing with a 7.62x51mm bullet. It can and _will_ kill you.”

“Do you know who you're talking to?” Weiss asked indignantly.

“Not really, no,” Bradford answered. “It'd be nice to.”

 

“I'm Weiss Schnee, of the Schnee Dust Company? The energy that fuels all of your weapons?”

Bradford and the soldiers looked at each other, confused as ever. Bradford eventually shrugged, and turned back to Weiss. “Okay, Miss Schnee, there's no… Schnee Dust Company, you called it? I don't know what this Dust tech is. If _you_ do, I'm sure we can find someone you can talk to about it. Once we make sure you're of sound mind, you're welcome aboard.”

 

“I'm not associating myself with terrorists,” Weiss shot back, barely cognizant of what she was saying. She couldn't trust them fully yet, but for some reason something about them made her want to follow.

“We're not terrorists,” Bradford said, his voice seething with anger. “If that's all you think we are, then we can leave you for ADVENT to find!”

Immediately, he turned and started walking away with the others. Weiss stepped forward, holding out her free hand as if she could reach out to them.

“Wait!” she called, causing them to turn.”What's ADVENT?”

 

Bradford turned back to look at her, as the others shrugged at one another in confusion. “You… you really don't know _anything,_ do you?”

“No,” Weiss said. “This isn't like anything I know.”

“Alright,” Bradford said, jerking his head towards the direction they were going. “Come with us to the _Avenger_. ADVENT might be sending their own patrol this way soon, anyway.”

Weiss nodded, sheathing Myrtenaster and falling in behind the strange people she had just met. They talked among each other quietly, in languages Weiss didn't understand. Even as they walked through the forest, partially tracing the path Weiss had blazed earlier, the soldiers carefully checked every corner and angle. One of them with a beard and a cigar in his mouth practically checked every bush they came across, as if it would hold an unknown enemy. Whatever this “ADVENT” was, they must have been on the lookout for it.

 

“You haven't answered me,” Weiss asked after about half an hour of travel. “What's ADVENT?”

Bradford drew a sharp breath. “Twenty years ago, aliens invaded Earth. They infiltrated us to the common man, terrorized us, and… well, they won. ADVENT is their occupation government, the friendly face of the alien invasion. We lost a lot of good people trying to fight them. Lost a lot more keeping the resistance alive.”

“Who's 'we'? Other than the resistance, of course.”

“XCOM. Extraterrestrial Combat Unit. We were formed in 1962, a joint worldwide paramilitary reaction force to alien encounters.”

“In 1962?” Weiss wondered aloud. “If it's only been twenty years -”

“1962 was over seventy years ago,” Bradford corrected.

 

Weiss gasped involuntarily, her eyes wide. “You've been serving in this force for seventy years?!”

Bradford _laughed._ Weiss got the feeling he didn't do this often, at least not anymore. She heard a few of the others chuckle as well, and suddenly her cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

“No, of course not,” Bradford said. “I'd only been on-board for a few years when the 2015 invasion began.”

Weiss slowed down, lagging behind slightly as she processed all of this new information. Everything was making even less sense than when she first looked in the water. So far, it didn't look like there was a way back home, and so she had to learn quickly. So much to learn, and so much history to comprehend. Weiss could barely even begin to imagine a multinational force solely dedicated to fighting _aliens._

 

“How do you handle the Grimm issue?” Weiss asked once she had caught up.

“What are Grimm?”

Maybe they called them something else. “You know,” she explained. “The creatures of destruction. Beasts with no soul, unable to use Aura? The beings attracted to negative emotions?” She looked up, and saw he was just more and more confused.

 

“It sounds like we both have some explaining to do,” Bradford said.

They approached a clearing, and a large ship touched down in front of them. The engines roared as they began to wind down. These were the sounds she heard earlier – it was coming from this craft. The blocky, angular build of the ship was unlike anything she recognized from home. A massive ramp touched down, unfolding smoothly and revealing an equally massive interior, covered in what she assumed to be XCOM banners and insignia. A handful of crewmembers in gray coveralls operated various controls and checked on mechanisms inside the ship. Slowly, the ramp began to unfold, smoothly meeting them on the ground.

 

“Welcome to the _Avenger_ , Miss Schnee,” Bradford said as he and the soldiers he was with headed up the ramp.

Weiss followed, reaching the top of the ramp with them where Bradford was met by a woman with short black hair, a green sleeveless vest, and an orange shirt with an XCOM logo on it.

“Shen,” Bradford said, drawing her attention. “Let the science team know we have someone they'll want to talk to.”

“Of course, Central,” she said, nodding. She turned her attention to Weiss, regarding her curiously. “Is this who caused that massive signal?”

 

“That's what they say,” Weiss replied, bowing gently to acknowledge the other woman's presence. “Weiss Schnee, Schn-” She paused before she finished introducing her company's name. _Right._ It apparently didn't exist here. How could they know of it if it didn't exist?

“Schneeschn?” the woman asked, tilting her head to the side in curiosity.

“No,” Weiss blurted out, “just Schnee.”

Somebody deeper in the bay shouted “Ramp up!” forcing them to head deeper in as well. Bradford quickly introduced the woman to Weiss as Chief Engineer Lily Shen, and the soldiers dispersed to do whatever it was they needed – or wanted – to do.

 

Off to the side, a man walked in from a corridor, the door sliding shut as he entered the bay. He wore a labcoat, massive red gloves, and underneath the labcoat he sported a white dress shirt, a red tie, and brown jodhpurs held up by a belt, the bottoms stuffed into his jet-black boots. The man pushed his small round glasses up the bridge of his nose, a stern look on his face, clean-shaven and complemented by his short black hair, as he looked down on Weiss.

 

“Miss Schnee,” Bradford said. “This is Doctor Alexander Ludwig. He'll be escorting you to the Science wing. Stay by him at all times.”

“I'm not a child,” Weiss said, perhaps a bit more harshly than she should have. Ludwig's eyes sized her up, perhaps assessing her as a threat.

“ _Macht schnell, wir gehen jetzt,”_ he said, gesturing to follow him. What was he saying?

“Doc,” Bradford reminded, “English only. She doesn't know German.”

Ludwig's brow furrowed, and a barely-concealed look of disgust crossed his face. He shook his head. “Vhat a disgrace.”

 

Ludwig grabbed Weiss's arm, practically dragging her down the halls as he lectured her in both whatever he spoke and English. Weiss didn't pay much attention to his lecturing, up until they began to near what looked like the end.

“Pah,” he muttered. “Such a fine German name, _und_ cannot even speak a little bit of it. I vill teach you, _mein Fräulein,_ perhaps you vere dropped on your head as a _kind._ ” He paused outside a door, releasing her arm for a short moment so he could fumble with a set of keys. “Ahm, for vhat it's vort, I do not believe you to be _ein kind._ No, _ein kind_ vould be schreaming _und_ yelling ze entire time.”

“Uh, thanks I guess?” Weiss said, unsure what he was really talking about.

 

Nothing was making sense. Though, lately, Weiss was debating whether anything ever did. Ludwig found the right key, opening the door and pulling her in with him.

“Ah, hello!” In contrast to his low-pitched growl earlier, Ludwig was speaking with an unnaturally high-pitched sing-song voice. “ _Herr Doktor_ , ze new patient has arrived!”

Inside the room, Weiss immediately saw a massive collection of scientific equipment, with all sorts of beakers and measuring devices that would look at home on Remnant. Mathematical equations she didn't understand were written on various chalkboards, alongside diagrams of strange devices and prototypes she wasn't sure would ever see the light of day.

 

Also in the room stood a black man with no hair, and a cluster of scars on the back of his head. A man and a woman stood in here too, both clad in green coveralls, with a strange symbol unlike that of XCOM on their upper arms. The first man had snow-white hair, indicating to Weiss he had to be older. The woman had brown hair, and almost immediately, the conversation in the room stopped as they all turned to stare at Weiss.

 

The older man stepped forward first. “Welcome aboard. General O'Neill.”

“Major Carter,” the woman said, nodding.

“And to round out our introductions, I am Doctor Richard Tygan. Doctor Ludwig, uh, if you could begin with the initial examination alongside the Major?”

Ludwig nodded, showing Weiss to a chair and having her sit down. Major Carter stepped nearby, a notepad in her hand.

“This shouldn't take too long,” Major Carter said to Weiss. “Just a few questions, really.”

Ludwig clearly detested the task he had been given. His warm smile he had gave the others was long gone, and he put a small black rectangular device on a nearby table. Readjusting his glasses, Ludwig put a pen to his own notepad, clearing his throat. “Alright, for ze rekord, tell me your name _und_ birthplace.”

 

“I'm Weiss Schnee, and I was born in Atlas.”

Ludwig glanced up at her as he wrote, casting a skeptical eye, but nodded anyway. “Mhm. _Und_ your age?”

“Twenty.”

“ _Wunderbar._ Do you know your left from your right?”

Weiss looked at him, puzzled. What kind of question was _that?_ “Yes, uh, this is my left, and this is my right,” she answered, demonstrating as necessary.

“Let ze rekord reflect zat ze patient correctly identified her left _und_ right,” Ludwig said.

 

“You know,” Weiss mentioned, “if you're going to talk to Major Carter, you could at least _look_ at her.”

Ludwig and Major Carter both looked up, surprised, and then exchanged confused glances.

“Do you know what this is?” Major Carter asked, holding the device up.

“No,” Weiss said. “Should I?”

_“Fascinating,”_ Ludwig muttered. “Ah, let ze rekord reflect zat ze patient did not know vhat a recording device was.”

“ _That's_ what that is?!” It seemed so… strange. She _knew_ they existed. Why did this one look so different? Why did everything in this world have to be such a radical departure from what she knew? Why did everything have to make her look like a fool in front of these people?

 

“If you could hold your head shtill _und_ follow my finger _mit_ your eyes,” Ludwig said, putting his pen down for a moment and moving his finger back and forth in front of her. Again, Ludwig noted she did so adequately.

“Uh, Doctor,” Major Carter said. “I think we've shown she's all there mentally.”

“ _Eine Sache noch… “_ Ludwig muttered. “Do you know vhere Berlin _und_ London are?”

“No,” Weiss answered.

“Do you know vhat _year_ it is, at least?”

“2035, I believe.”

 

“Alright, Doctor,” Tygan said, heading over to them with the General in tow. “I think we can take it over from here.”

Tygan sat down in a chair opposite of Weiss, clicking his pen to begin writing.

“Before we get started,” the General said, holding up two fingers as he wandered around the room. “I just wanted to ask you, how'd you manage to get here?”

“I… I don't really know,” Weiss admitted. “I was experimenting with Dust, and… all I remember is a flash of light, and then I was here.”

 

“You say you were born in a place called… Atlas?” Tygan asked. “Describe it for me, please.”

“Well,” Weiss began, recalling her history and geography lessons. “It's the only city on the Solitas continent, since the rest of it is covered in ice. This makes the rest of it uninhabitable, to both the creatures of Grimm and humans alike. Atlas itself is the headquarters used by my family's company, the Schnee Dust Company, and the Atlesian military. I… think I saw some Atlesian equipment used by your soldiers? It looked familiar, at least.”

 

“These creatures of Grimm,” Tygan prodded, “what are they?”

“Like I told Central Officer Bradford, they're creatures without a soul who cannot use Aura. They're drawn to negative emotions and terrible events, and conventional weapons cannot defeat them.”

“Alright,” the General said, sighing. “So I guess setting up six 240s and letting them go wild is out of the question. What _can_ take one of these out?”

“Dust weaponry, what my family's company specializes in. We use Dust for everything from powering airships to propellant for weapons. Here,” Weiss said, pulling out her weapon. “I have some in Myrtenaster here.”

 

“Ahm, _Fräulein_ Schnee,” Ludwig said, chuckling. “Are you avare zat Myrtenaster is German for a family of flowers found in a white color?”

“Uh, no,” Weiss replied. How could she? She didn't speak this German.

“If you don't shpeak German, zen how did you come upon zis name?”

“I don't know,” Weiss answered, her eyes darting back and forth. “It just… came to me, I guess. Do you want to see the Dust I have or not?”

 

“Call me a bit of a skeptic,” the General chimed in, “but I'm not sure if handling an alien weapon is a good idea here.”

“It's perfectly safe as long as you don't activate it,” Weiss explained, showing them exactly what _not_ to pull.

“Miss Schnee,” Tygan said, steering the conversation back. “Would you mind if I examined your weapon before you extracted this 'Dust'?”

 

Weiss nodded, handing over Myrtenaster to him. Tygan took it up in his hands, remarking upon the quality construction of the weapon, as well as its excellent balance. He also noted its extreme similarity to a rapier, which Weiss quickly informed him it _was._

“And you said this chamber in the hilt contains this Dust?” Major Carter asked, having stepped over to examine it as well.

“Yes, if you let me have it back I can show you.”

Tygan handed Myrtenaster back, and with the same skill she had for years, Weiss deftly unlocked the loading chamber, taking out a Dust crystal and handing it over to an expectant Tygan. He turned the small crystal over in his hands, completely enamored by it.

 

“Fascinating,” he muttered. “Ah, let the record reflect that Miss Schnee has given us a small crystal, green in color, completely opaque and approximately 5mm wide.”

“Like I said, this is used for everything from energy production to weaponry.”

“Backtrack a bit,” the General said after Weiss had reinserted the Dust into Myrtenaster. “You said you were doing some kind of experiment with this stuff when you got here? Is this stuff dangerous?”

 

“Only if you don't know what you're doing with it,” Weiss said. “I've been around Dust my entire life, experimenting like what I was doing was just second nature.”

“A second nature that got you _here_ ,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Why don't you tell us the specifics about this experiment of yours.”

“Well, I was experimenting to see if I could boost Myrtenaster's power with experimental Dust. All I really remember is a bright flash of light, and here I am, three years younger.”

“So, you're telling me you were 23 when you did this experiment?” Major Carter asked.

“No, I mean I was 20, and now I'm 17. At least, my body is anyway. I'm in the same clothes I used to wear at school, but I haven't been there for years.”

 

“Well, hell, that's a new one,” the General muttered.

“Most intriguing indeed,” Tygan said, rubbing his chin. “Miss Schnee, has Central Officer Bradford briefed you on the situation we currently face?”

“Now hold on a minute, Doctor...” the General interrupted.

“The aliens?” Weiss said. “Yes, he spoke to some degree of it, but… I'm not sure if this is my fight. I'd be happy to help, but I'm not sure if you _need_ it, the way he was talking.”

“We _don't_ ,” the General said harshly. “Listen, you've been great at answering all these questions, but I think we'll be taking custody of that weapon now. So, uh, if you'd be so kind as to hand it over?”

 

Weiss narrowed her eyes. They wanted to disarm her _now?_ She had been nothing but polite and considerate to these people. The familiar sound of a weapon being prepared caught her attention, and she saw Ludwig had produced a pistol, keeping it low. He was clearly ready to use it if necessary. Major Carter also had put away her pen and notepad, keeping a hand over a pistol of her own. Weiss sighed. She really had no choice, didn't she?

 

“Fine,” she said, handing over Myrtenaster to Dr. Tygan. “But you better not damage it! And don't you dare run any tests on Myrtenaster if I'm not here to supervise you!”

“We'll take excellent care of your weapon, Miss Schnee,” Dr. Tygan said, standing up and taking Myrtenaster to a corner of the lab.

“Doctor, Major, if you'd escort our guest to The Box,” the General said, turning heel and walking away.

“Sorry, kid,” Major Carter said quietly.

 

Weiss was shown to a small room, covered in some kind of padded material. It reeked of death, and strange, dried fluids stained parts of the walls and floor. Some of it looked like blood, but other stains Weiss didn't want to speculate the origin of. Ludwig shoved her into the room, and the door shut behind her with a solid, heavy _thud._ Jangling keys confirmed what she already knew – she'd be locked in here.

 

Captured again.

 

What terrible luck.


	2. Beggar's Dance

Weiss wasn't sure how, but she was able to sleep in this cell. Not that it was _good_ sleep – quite the opposite, in fact. Despite the padded interior, she couldn't get comfortable, and the overwhelming stench of death was impossible to ignore. There was no way to tell how long she had been in here, and thus she wasn't sure if she had gotten ten minutes or five hours of sleep.

 

Outside the door, she heard the tell-tale sound of heavy boots on the laminated floor, which paused just in front of the entrance.

“Is this the one?” This was a new voice. There was some sort of accent in it, not one she had heard before, and completely foreign to her.

“Ah, _ja.”_ And there was Ludwig. That jerk.

“Doctor, you conducted her mental examination. What was the impression you got?”

“Vell, in my professional medical opinion, she _ist ein_ Cloud Cuckoolander. Completely _und_ clinically insane!”

 

“Yeah, Tygan thought the same about you, Doc,” the General said.

“Open it,” said the first voice. “I want to speak to her.”

Ludwig grumbled, muttering, “Alright.”

With a heavy creak, the door opened, and a woman with dark skin walked in, clad in a uniform that featured a strange pattern of small squares of beige and two different shades of gray, with a small rectangle on both sides that had a white strip flanked by two green stripes on her arms. She clasped her hands behind her back, looking down on Weiss as she got up.

 

“You are the strange girl from the forest, yes?”

“I believe so,” Weiss said, swallowing hard. The woman in front of her looked stern, like she was about to order one of the men behind her to take her away for some nefarious experiment.

“The doctor's notes say you claim to be from a place called Atlas, on the… what is it, Solitas continent?”

Weiss nodded. “I lived there until I went to Beacon.”

“What is this 'Beacon?” she asked. “I've never heard of it before.”

 

“Well,” Weiss said, clearing her throat. “It's one of the more prestigious Huntsman academies in Remnant. My father wanted me to go to Atlas, but… I preferred Beacon.”

“I see,” the woman said, blinking slowly as if she were trying to figure out if Weiss was lying or just crazy. “And Remnant is your home?”

Weiss nodded.

“Let me show you something,” the woman said, producing a picture that showed a small gray bipedal being, without a mouth. It's huge red eyes reminded Weiss of a Grimm, and it had some sort of strange gauntlet on its right arm, its chest glowing orange.

“Is this what your creatures of Grimm look like?” Weiss asked, astonished.

 

“So you are unfamiliar with the aliens, then,” the woman said, sighing as she withdrew the picture, tucking it away in a pocket. “Alright. I am the Commander, Della Okorie.”

“Commander,” the General said, stepping inside to stand next to Commander Okorie. “Are you sure this is a good idea? She might be a Faceless -”

“If she were a Faceless, she would have transformed already,” Commander Okorie replied, gesturing to Weiss. “Look at her. She is a lost girl trying to find her way home, General O'Neill.”

“I already told your doctors,” Weiss pleaded, trying to make her case again for the General. “I'd like to help if I can. I believe the General here said you didn't need my help, though?”

 

Commander Okorie raised an eyebrow, turning to face him. “Is this true, General?”

General O'Neill sighed, rolling his eyes pensively. “Yes, but _only_ because I was concerned she was a Faceless. I don't think I need to remind you about the Walker situation.”

“No, your fear is justified, General, but if the aliens were going to try to infiltrate us again, don't you think they would pick a better agent than a girl who knows nothing?”

The General pursed his lips, looking away. “I suppose so.”

 

“Miss Schnee,” Commander Okorie said, turning back to Weiss. “I have a proposal for you. You can help us fight the aliens, and in return, I will have the science team devote a portion of their work to finding a way for you to go home.”

“Hold on, Commander-”

“Really?” Weiss asked, surprised at the Commander's sudden generosity.

“Yes, really,” Commander Okorie said, smiling.

Weiss smiled back, getting a sense of… comfort? Familiarity? A sense of belonging? Either way, it was nice to have, and Weiss nodded, an affirmation she was ready to help. “I'll do it.”

 

“Alright, I guess if we're going to do this, we may as well hit the ground running,” General O'Neill said, rolling his eyes again. He gestured for Weiss to follow him, leading her and Doctor Ludwig back to the lab, where Doctor Tygan and Major Carter were, examining Myrtenaster.

“Ah, Miss Schnee,” Tygan said, turning to see who had come in. “I'm surprised to see you back so soon. I assume the Commander intervened on your behalf?”

“Yeah,” General O'Neill said. “The Commander might have come down and talked to her.”

“Guess she still has a soft spot for lost kids, huh?” Carter asked, smirking.

 

“Well, either way Miss Schnee,” Tygan said, readjusting his glasses. “We were about to see if we could activate this 'Dust' of yours, but, seeing as you have been freed, it may be best if you help demonstrate it for us.”

“Of course,” Weiss said.

“Now, before we continue, I would like to mention,” Tygan said, checking his clipboard. “I've run a series of tests, but so far, none of them have detected that this Dust is volatile in any fashion, nor radioactive. I don't believe we went over it in our discussion last time, but how exactly does Dust work?”

 

“Dust is a naturally occurring element in Remnant,” Weiss explained. “When activated by Aura, it functions as needed, whether as power for a machine or a cartridge for a rifle. My family's company refined it and distributed it worldwide, providing this sort of energy to anyone who needed it.”

“Right,” Major Carter said. “What is Aura, though? Is that another element of some kind? A specific mechanical component?”

“Well, no, Aura is the physical manifestation of one's soul, which itself brings different abilities into Semblances. But, Aura itself is the main method that allows Dust to be used. Here – I can show you. Is there something I can use as a target?”

 

The collected scientists and officers looked around the lab – this clearly wasn't the place to use experimental weaponry. They took Weiss down several levels to a place called the Shooting Range, and set up a wooden cutout at the end of a long hall. The sound of somebody else working a weapon that was foreign to her could be heard, echoing softly in the large, empty room.

 

Weiss regulated her breathing, ensuring it wasn't too fast, but not too slow either. She shifted her weight back just ever so slightly, lining up Myrtenaster just right over the target. She pressed the same sequence she had pressed all her life, which should have activated the Dust inside Myrtenaster.

 

Except it didn't.

 

She tried again. One more time. Then seventeen more times before screaming out, “What's going on?! Why isn't it working?”

General O'Neill slowly reached around Weiss, taking Myrtenaster from her again. “I think you've demonstrated enough.”

“If I may,” Tygan said, clicking his pen as he took more notes. “You said this could be used as power for anything. What sort of technological advancements was your home world capable of?”

“Everything! We had flight, vehicles, androids, ships… “ Suddenly, it struck Weiss like a bag of bricks. “Of course! Dust couldn't be used as rocket fuel for space flight!”

 

“Why not?” Major Carter asked. “Too much effort, or…?”

“No, outside of Remnant's atmosphere, Dust didn't work. I… I don't think anyone ever figured out why.”

“Logically, then,” Tygan said, stroking his chin. “If Dust couldn't work outside of this Remnant's atmosphere, then it can't possibly work here, unless of course the two planet's atmospheres were remarkably similar. But we have no way of testing such a thing, unfortunately...”

“Ahm, if I may, _Herr Doktor_ ,” Ludwig chimed in. “If zis Remnant's atmosphere vas not compatible viz our own, zen how if _Fräulein_ Schnee able to breathe as comfortably as she is? If ze atmopsheres vere different, zen her head vould be exploding under ze pressure, or ze air vould be too zhin for her to breathe.”

 

“Right, a salient point,” Tygan said. “This is strange indeed. Perhaps the differences lie in minute changes that Miss Schnee is unable to perceive, but for this Dust, the changes are completely incompatible with the properties it has on Remnant. Intriguing, I haven't had such a puzzle since the first gene therapy clinics!”

Tygan and Ludwig started to walk away, trading theories about why Dust didn't work on Remnant. General O'Neill also headed away after handing back Myrtenaster, useless as anything other than a stabbing device and muttering something about having to babysit the “eggheads”, whatever that meant.

 

Only Major Carter remained behind, chuckling softly. “I'm sorry, Miss Schnee,” she said. “Sometimes the boys get a bit caught up in the science and forget about _people._ I'm going to have to write up a few reports before the doctors get caught up in new theories, but Mister Mundy can help you get yourself settled in the barracks. I'll come around in a while.”

 

Soon, Carter left as well, leaving Weiss alone in the shooting range.

“Who's Mister Mundy?” Weiss asked, about a few minutes too late.

A rifle shot rang out, startling her. She looked to her left – and out from one of the booths emerged a tall man, carrying a long, green-tinted rifle in his hands, wearing huge mirrored glasses that reminded her of the ones Yang used to wear. His neutral expression remained unchanged, either silent professionalism or unmitigated boredom, Weiss couldn't tell. On his head, he had a strange hat, bent on one side. Maybe it was unintentional?

 

“Um, sir,” Weiss said as he got closer. “Your hat is… bent.”

“Yeah?” he said, a low, almost gravelly voice coming out of his mouth. “I heard you and the docs talking. If you think I'm gonna babysit ya, you're wrong, mate.”

“I don't need anyone to _babysit_ me,” Weiss protested, folding her arms and frowning. “I'm not a child.”

The man let out a loud, long laugh, slinging the rifle across his back. “Yeah, coulda fooled me, kid. You look like yer barely outta high school. What're ya, sixteen?”

“ _Twenty,_ ” Weiss corrected. “And no, I'm _not_ interested in whatever disgusting proposition you have for me, Mister Mundy.”

 

He let out another loud laugh, his head lolling back and forth until he refocused, lowering his glasses to look down at her. “Oh, you're a real dag, ain't ya? Bit of advice, ankle biter, don't call me Mister Mundy. Call me Alan, but don't bother rememberin' it. If I'm right about you, you got Buckley's chance out in the field.”

Weiss didn't feel like any of his words were making sense. Maybe they didn't. Maybe she was going insane, and this was all a dream. It sure beat facing the possible reality that she was actually living this, and that she was so far from home on a strange planet that didn't work like she was used to.

 

“Come on, kid,” Mister Mundy – _Alan_ – said, jerking his head towards the elevator they had come in on. “I heard you were hosting up in the barracks, yeah?”

“That's what Major Carter said, yes,” Weiss said, following him as they headed into the elevator.

“Yeah, like I said. Buckley's chance, kid. I'd wish ya good luck, but I gotta keep as much as I can, you know?” He winked and flashed a cocky smile as they entered.

“I… guess?” Weiss replied, squinting at him suspiciously.

 

This day had been nothing but strange so far. _Was_ it even the same day? She hoped reaching the barracks would provide at least some sense of normalcy. Already she could tell this was exactly what Bradford had said it was: a resistance. No other military outfit Weiss knew of would so callously allow the casual dress Alan Mundy displayed in their ranks.

 

The elevator brought them up several floors, and Alan led Weiss down a series of winding halls, almost like the ones that had taken her to the lab. Instead, he led her into a large area. Despite its size, dozens of soldiers with dozens of beds made the room feel positively cramped, and she winced at the idea of bunking with so many soldiers, male and female alike.

“Woah!” somebody yelled, and Weiss turned her head to see another man, with a goatee and wearing rectangular glasses, clad in an orange suit of… maybe armor? “When did we start doing field trips?”

“Ah, mind yer bizzo, Freeman,” Alan said, waving him off. “Where's Price?”

The man, who must have been Freeman, looked at them confused, then pointed to the other end of the area. “Over there, I think.”

Alan muttered a barely-acknowledged – or, more likely, barely-heard – thanks and headed over to this Price, motioning for Weiss to follow him. Together, they passed by all sorts of people – tall, short, thin, fat, black, white – some of whom regarded Weiss curiously, and others who didn't even give them a second glance.

 

“Don't mind Freeman, ankle biter,” Alan said as they walked. “Freeman's a right bludger, but between you and me, if he weren't good at shooting aliens, he'd be left for dead.”

Another series of bunkers, these ones occupied by sleeping troops. Weiss and Alan must have reached whoever this Price was. He heard them coming his way, turning to face them. He had a full beard, neatly trimmed, and a floppy, wide brimmed hat made of a thick cloth on his head, his torso covered in pouches of some kind, nearly covering his black wool shirt. His blue eyes seemed to pierce Weiss's very soul as he looked down on her, almost as if he were sizing her up as a threat.

 

Next to her, Alan saluted, and sensing a superior officer, Weiss stood at attention. The man let out a small _“hmph”_ , gesturing for Alan to drop the salute. “At ease, you two,” he said, his voice sounding almost like Alan's. But, he pronounced his words far more clearly, like he was emphasizing each one. It almost reminded her of Velvet's voice. He waved Alan away, dismissing him, and then looked at Weiss. “I know you. You're the kid I had orders to shoot in the forest this morning.”

So this was the sniper Bradford claimed was watching over them.

“Well,” she said, “you look different from what I was expecting.”

“From what I hear,” Price said, lighting a cigar, “you're quite the quirky little lady. So, maybe both of our expectations are getting broken today. Where'd you learn to stand like that?”

 

“At Beacon, sir,” she said. He didn't seem to recognize it. How could he?

“Never heard of it. Heard Carter say something about you working with us. That about right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Price made a noncommittal grunt, smoking more of his cigar. So far, Weiss couldn't tell if his response was good or bad. “Wouldn't be the first time we picked someone up from the forest. Right, so you here to fight, kid, or are you one of Carter's assistants or something?”

Weiss swallowed hard. How could she fight? If Dust didn't work here, she was practically useless. “I'd like to fight, sir, but Myrtenaster doesn't work here.”

 

Price looked at her, silently demanding answers until she clarified that she meant her rapier. “That thing?” Price asked, pointing the cigar at Myrtenaster. “You're going to need something a little more modern than that if you want in on this fight.”

At this time, Major Carter arrived, apparently done with her paperwork and having already homed in on Weiss and Price. “Price, Schnee, good to see you two are getting along.”

“Something like that,” Price muttered. “I'm sure you know; this is the kid that almost went and stabbed Central.”

 

“Mhm,” Carter said, smiling at Weiss knowingly. “We're well acquainted.”

“Right,” Price said, snuffing out the cigar. “Get her set up with a proper weapon, would you, Carter? Her little rapier isn't going to do much against what ADVENT's got out there.”

“Come on, Schnee. I think you'll like this.”

Carter and Weiss headed over to an armory, a nook of the large bay that was covered from floor to ceiling with unfamiliar weapons. These were nothing like the ones she was used to at home. Like with many things so far, Weiss was confused by something. Namely, the patch on Carter's sleeve.

 

“You don't wear the same patch that the others do,” Weiss mentioned.

“Very observant,” Carter said, nodding. “Before I was asked to join XCOM, I was part of the Stargate program in the United States. We were experimenting a lot with portal technology.”

“Portals?” Weiss asked. “Why did you stop?”

“Alien invasion, for one. XCOM for two. Working to stop the alien invasion took up a lot of my time, and eventually Stargate just… got defunded. It wasn't worth spending money on it without tangible results.”

 

“Are you and that General both from Stargate, then?” Weiss asked. “You both have that patch.”

“Yes, O'Neill was my superior back then. Still is, really. Anyway, weaponry. I know you fight with that,” Carter said, gesturing to Myrtenaster. “But what kind of style did you have? I noticed there were some rifling mechanics in that.”

“Well… I supported my teammates more than anything. I suppose if I had to copy that here, then I want to stay with my team when I can, help them out.”

Carter smiled, pulling out a short, black weapon and handing it to Weiss. “This is the G36C, a German assault rifle. You've got your standard thirty-round magazine, and with enough training, you can swap mags in less than two seconds. Effective at all but the most extreme ranges.”

 

Weiss tested the weapon in her hands, noting its well-balanced design. Surprisingly enough, it was light, and comfortable to grip once Carter showed her how to. “Alright,” Weiss said. “I think I'll go with this one, then.”

“Great,” Carter said. “Go ahead and find a bunk, I'll make sure one of these is secured for your use. Tomorrow, we start your training.”

“But I'm already trained!” Weiss protested.

“Really?” Carter asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you know how to assault a fortified enemy position?”

“Uh...”

Where's the safety on this weapon? What are the three rules of firearm safety? Explain fire and maneuver to me.”

“I… I don't know any of those things,” Weiss replied sheepishly.

 

Carter nodded. “So you don't have training. Like I said, we'll start tomorrow. Don't worry, we all gotta start somewhere.” Carter began to fill out paperwork, again reminding Weiss to go find a bunk and get herself settled in for the night. The veritable forest of bunks seemed intimidating. People milled about on all of them, and as Weiss walked among them, she noticed each one had a metal sign on the front denoting who it belonged to. Were there even any empty beds _left?_ How many people did they have on this ship anyway??

 

After what felt like years of searching, she managed to find an unoccupied bed, sitting on it and sighing heavily. Each bed had a footlocker at both ends of the bed, with open padlocks for someone like her to fill with their things. The only problem was she didn't _have_ any things. None of her personal effects, other than Myrtenaster, had made the journey to this strange world, it seemed.

 

Now having been granted a reprieve in the midst of what had so far been nothing but madness, Weiss couldn't help but think of home, of all the people she left behind, wondering what happened to her. Did they know she was gone? Were Ruby, Blake, and Yang out there right now with Jaune, Ren and Nora, looking for her? How safe was Remnant now? How long had it even _been_ when she left? Weiss had no way of knowing whether she had been gone one day or weeks, even months.

 

“Hey, kid,” a gruff voice said, breaking Weiss out of her thoughts. “What are you doing here? This is no place for _you.”_

Weiss sat up, looking at the new voice. He looked at her suspiciously, cradling a helmet in his arm and clad in white armor with a blue accent on his left shoulder.

“I'm Weiss Schnee,” she said, introducing herself. “Major Carter said I could stay here.”

The new arrival looked at her, narrowing his eyes. “Is that right? Does Captain Price know about this?”

 

“He does,” Weiss answered. What was with the third degree? Weiss knew she was in the right here.

“I see. Tell me something, kid, what's Captain Price look like?”

Weiss looked at him strangely. Why would he ask that? “He's about as tall as you are, with brown facial hair. Neatly trimmed.”

He hummed in response, placing his helmet on the top bunk opposite of her. “Alright, you _do_ know Price then. Fine, I suppose you can stay here, but if I found out you lied, I'm throwing you off this ship myself, is that understood?”

“Understood,” Weiss replied.

“Hey!” he snapped almost immediately. “You will address me as _Captain!_ Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Captain!” Weiss shouted back unintentionally.

Seemingly satisfied, the Captain hopped onto his bunk. Feeling a thousand times more exhausted than she had ever been before, Weiss collapsed onto the bed that was entirely too narrow.

 

What a day.


	3. Disturbance

Weiss woke up to the sound of someone banging a wooden spoon on a trashcan lid. She looked up to see a woman standing at the front of her bunk, scanning the area underneath a large hood with what looked like some kind of breathing apparatus on it, two round green “eyes” her only means of vision.

“Hey, you,” she shouted, pointing at Weiss with the spoon. “Get on your feet!

Weiss didn't need much more in the way of encouragement. She hopped out of bed, rushing to get her shoes on and follow the strange woman, who had rounded up several others. The stranger dropped the lid and spoon, letting them fall to the floor in a clatter. “Names!” she shouted, starting at one end of the informal line she had made and going down, asking for each soldier's name. Like the others before her, Weiss gave her name, and soon had the rifle she had picked out yesterday shoved into her hands.

 

Once again, they began moving, and the woman led them down into the shooting range, where Major Carter waited for them alongside Price, the latter of whom had his arms folded.

“All present and accounted for,” the woman reported, saluting.

“Dismissed, Corporal, good work,” Price said, returning the salute. He relaxed his arms, stepping to stand in front of the collected group. “Alright, listen up! Today's basic training for you lot. For one reason or another, you're here to help fight the aliens. We are making the assumption that you do not know how to fight. We will train you and show you how to fight, our way. Major Carter, the floor is yours.”

 

“Thank you, Captain,” Carter said, nodding. “We'll start with basic weapon familiarization today. Most of you have similar weapon platforms, but I see we'll have to divide the class up a little.” She pointed to Weiss, and a handful of others. “You, you, you and you, come with me. The rest of you, follow Captain Price.”

Weiss did as ordered, following Carter to one side of the shooting range, where Carter demonstrated the three basic rules of firearm safety, as well as showing them how to load their rifles, perform basic maintenance checks, and showed each one individually where their weapon safeties were. It seemed easy enough. These weren't any more complicated than the weapons the Atlesian military used at home.

 

The person called Corporal from earlier walked around, handing loaded magazines to them and ordered each one to not shoot their foot off. Carter led them through changing magazines, and preparing their rifle to fire as well as basic field maintenance. A short break for lunch came, in the form of prepackaged food they called “Emarees.” Most soldiers complained, but Weiss didn't find too much offensive about the meals themselves.

 

The break soon ended, and immediately the group went back to work, this time practicing their shooting. Corporal stood behind Weiss, guiding her through basic principles of shooting, soon replaced by Major Carter as Corporal moved on to other people.

“Ease up on the trigger,” Carter instructed, relaxing Weiss's death-like grip on the rifle. “Don't doubt the iron sights, Weiss.”

“It's getting heavy,” Weiss complained.

“That's normal. You'll get used to it.”

 

Weiss emptied three more magazines, with shooting skills that Price called “decidedly average.” She was given a crash course in “tactical maneuvering” by Corporal, and then trained again in a technique called “fast-roping” by Price. Most of the other soldiers went through this same training, with the others told to sit and watch in order to learn.

 

The entire day culminated in each of them running the “Killhouse” - a mockup building used specifically for training. Price stood in front of the building, next to a ladder that would take Weiss to the top of the exercise.

“For this one,” he said, launching into his explanation, “you will climb up this tower, grab the rope when ready, and follow my exact instructions throughout the exercise. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Weiss, and the collected soldiers, replied.

“You will need to finish this course as fast as possible. Speed is of the essence here. Schnee, you're first, head up the tower when you're ready.”

 

Weiss nodded. Honestly, Weiss wasn't sure how the _Avenger_ could even host a facility of this size. Then again, the ship was deceptively complex. Who knew what sorts of hidden compartments were inside this thing? Suddenly being at the top of the tower grounded Weiss back to reality, and she took a deep breath as she clutched onto the rope.

 

“Fast-rope down!” Price shouted. “Go! Go! Go!”

Weiss hit the bottom of the rope hard, sliding down to the top floor of the mockup. Three targets popped up, shaped in the outline of some strange being clad in black with a rifle in its hands.

“Engage the targets!”

Weiss took her rifle up to her shoulder, squeezing the trigger once, twice, three times, knocking down each target in perfect order.

“Down the stairs!”

 

She turned to her right, seeing nothing, then her left, spotting the staircase. She followed it down, heading into a hallway where Price ordered her to engage more targets. Another room, with more targets, this time mixed with civilians she was ordered not to shoot. A one-woman breach-and-clear of another room, checking each corner ( _“Check those corners!”_ ) and then a rush down to another floor, devoid of any targets. At least, until she got near the door to exit – then she had to beat the target with the butt of her rifle. Now free of the eponymous Killhouse, Weiss had to rush to an arbitrary finish point.

 

Now done, Weiss stopped to catch her breath, surprised by the exertion of running the Killhouse. This was probably the hardest thing she had done in a long while, Weiss thought as she was doubled over, panting heavily.

“Good job, Schnee,” Price said, writing something down on a notepad. “You ran the Killhouse in two minutes flat. Five others faster than you.”

“That's a tough time to beat, kid,” Corporal said, her arms folded. “Come on, now! Next one, get over here!”

Price tossed Weiss a bottle of water. “Go take a rest. You've earned it.”

 

As Price and Corporal ordered the other recruits through the Killhouse, Weiss took a seat just in time to see Central Officer Bradford walk in. He spotted Price, and made an immediate beeline for him, stopping only when Price noticed and saluted him. Bradford returned the salute, allowing Price to relax for a minute as he handed over running the Killhouse to Corporal.

 

“Surprise to see you, Central,” Price said, heading away from the others, but closer to Weiss.

“Save the formalities, Price,” Bradford said. “Shen just picked up remnants of a signal almost exactly like the one that brought us to Schnee. Is she ready for combat?”

“Combat, sir? You expect ADVENT to be nearby?”

“You read the reports from O'Neill and Tygan. That signal might bring the creatures she was talking about.”

“The things she claims conventional weapons ineffective against,” Price said, rubbing his chin.

“Precisely. Is she ready or not, Captain?”

Price sighed. From where she was, Weiss couldn't tell if he was thinking hard, or trying to find a way to phrase his next sentence. He folded his arms, and turned to Weiss. “Schnee! Get over here.”

Weiss jumped up, heading to stand near the two officers with her weapon slung behind her back, standing at attention. “Yes, sir?”

 

“Schnee, you think you can handle these creatures you were talking about without your Dust technology?”

“Maybe,” Weiss replied. “It depends on what kind we get.”

Bradford nodded. “We gotta take this chance, Price. Better to have someone out there who knows what she's up against, and we can't let ADVENT get their hands on these things if they're out there.”

“Have to agree,” Price said. “Alright, Schnee, you're cleared for duty. Meet up with Corporal Enberg, get yourself a rig and enough ammunition for five magazines for your rifle.”

“Yes, sir!” Weiss said. Corporal showed her the way back to the armory, stuffing ammo into her magazines, and then putting that into a rig. Corporal paused when she saw what Weiss was dressed in.

 

“Alright, this isn't gonna work out,” she said, putting the combat rig away. “You look about a seven in the German system, here, take these.”

Corporal handed Weiss a pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt, covered in small brown, black, green and tan spots, with pockets with small black buttons on it as well. On one side of the shirt, a small rectangle had been sewed on with a black, red and yellow stripe.

“Well?” Corporal asked, gesturing to the clothes. “You gonna put them on or what?”

 

“Out here?” Weiss asked, looking around. There were people all _over._ What if someone saw something?

“Fucking hell, forgot you were a kid,” Corporal said. “Fine, here, stand behind this and I'll cover you. Just hurry up, yeah?”

Weiss rushed through changing, and before she even knew it, Corporal had taken her signature dress away, tossing it aside and throwing the combat rig to Weiss. Each magazine had already been put in its place on the rig, making it heavy as it hung over her shoulders. Corporal checked her again, making sure Weiss was wearing the gear correctly, and shoved her away to the hangar.

 

Soon, Weiss was joined by Price and four people, who she recognized as the same ones who had picked her up from the forest. The sole woman among them rolled her eyes as she spotted Weiss, grunting in disgust.

“Price, what's with the ankle-biter here?” she asked, gesturing to Weiss.

“Miss Schnee is joining us on this one. Her expertise should help us if we run into any _unconventional_ enemies.”

Slowly, the rest of the squad headed into the waiting ship, which Price introduced to her as the Skyranger, explaining that they used it for tactical insertions into hostile zones. It reminded Weiss of the airships back home, if only in size. Maybe a smaller one – not like the cargo ship she had used to hitch a ride to Mistral. If the Grimm were here like Bradford was talking about, she wasn't sure this vessel would hold up.

 

The squad loaded into the small ship, which took off fairly quickly. A radio message from Bradford informed them that they were heading to a place called Romania, repeating a lot of information Weiss already knew. Shen had picked up a strange signal, and there were fears that there was what Bradford termed an “unknown alien unit” present there.

 

Half an hour later, the Skyranger began to hover over a forest, much like the one Weiss remembered being plucked from. The rear of the ship opened, and from the roof sprang four ropes. The others in the squad headed down, fast-roping to the ground and securing the area ahead of Price and Weiss.

“Just like we trained, Schnee,” Price shouted above the noise of the engines, grabbing the rope and sliding down.

Now back on solid ground, Weiss took the time to take stock of the area. The forest was like she expected, but just beyond the horizon to her front, she saw a skyline, but it wasn't like one she knew. The city looked dirty, rotten, like the entire populace was corrupted.

 

“Figure they're in there, Price?” asked the woman, pointing to the city.

“If not, we might find them on the way,” Price replied. “What is that? Cluj-Napoca?”

“I think so, unless ADVENT called it something else by now.”

Weiss had just now noticed it, but the woman's voice was almost like Alan's – she had the same inflection on words, emphasized the same consonants, but unlike Alan's, her voice was higher-pitched, and not rough at all.

 

They began moving out, heading towards the city. Strange signs displayed an alien language, either promoting something or reminding the populace of their place. As they got closer, Weiss could hear the sounds of people, but didn't see much evidence of them. The streets were filled with garbage, and broken benches could be seen everywhere. The paths had broken tiles, revealing the raw dirt underneath and presenting a tripping hazard.

 

“Baseplate,” Price said, speaking into a radio strapped to his chest. “We're at the coordinates, no sight of anything unusual. You sure those readings were right?”

“We're sure,” Bradford replied. “Check the city center, whatever's going on is coming from there.”

Price nodded, turning to face the woman. “Leftenant Voll, you and the others head to the city center. Schnee, you and I are heading to high ground.”

“Got it, Price!” Voll said, barking orders to the other three and heading off, disappearing around a corner.

 

Weiss followed Price up top to a tall building, ascending multiple staircases and scaring more than a few civilians. Ultimately, they reached the top of the building, and Price began to set his rifle up, observing the large square in front of them. Weiss too looked out at the plaza, noting a massive statue that showed some sort of tall, long-limbed being. Benches and rectangular planters dotted the area. Poles with red beams of light, producing some kind of square pattern, were all over the place, regarded with indifference by the local populace that milled about.

 

“Leftenant, report,” Price asked, adjusting his scope. “You see anything down there?”

“Nah,” Voll replied. “Just ADVENT. They haven't spotted us yet.”

Price sighed, pressing a button on his radio. “Baseplate, we've got nothing. Repeat, no sign of anything unusual. Those readings right?”

“Yeah, they check out. Still, this might interest you,” Bradford said. “We have word of an ADVENT General rolling through the area. He's headed your way on a personal inspection of the troops in Romania.”

 

“You want us to knock him out,” Price concluded. “Alright, we can do that. We'll let you know when it's done, Baseplate. Bravo Actual out.”

Weiss wondered if their missions always changed this quickly, but didn't have the time to voice it.

“Voll, new orders. We're taking out an ADVENT general. Be on the lookout for him.”

“Yes, sir,” Voll said.

“You busy, Schnee?” Price asked.

“No, sir,” Weiss replied, checking the ammo in her rifle. Full magazine. She hadn't fired a single shot yet, and if all went well, wouldn't need to.

 

“Get over here. I need you to do something for me.”

Weiss kept herself low, in case the aliens had some sort of long-range spotting unit that could see her if she stood tall. When she neared Price, he handed her a pair of binoculars, not taking his eye off his scope for even a moment.

“Take these,” he said. “Check the range to that square.”

Taking the binoculars up to her eyes, she saw the range measured out for her in the binoculars as she looked to the square, and Price further instructed her to use the square's fountain as a reference point. By the estimate the binoculars were giving her, it was nearly 639 meters away. She could never imagine someone like Ruby making a shot this far away using just Dust, and the fact that the weapons here were capable of that shot were astounding.

 

“Price,” Leftenant Voll said over the radio, “we got incoming. The ADVENT general's on his way.”

“Transport or foot-mobile?” Price asked.

“Foot-mobile, he's got some regular fucks with him.”

“Copy that, Leftenant. Get ready to move when he stops in the square.”

 

Weiss observed as Price adjusted his scope, watching the square carefully for signs of the ADVENT general heading in. As if on cue, some of his soldiers began clearing the square of civilians, moving to the corners to secure the perimeter. Within a few minutes, the general himself came into view, covered head to toe in green armor that obscured all of his face except his mouth. No doubt some sign as to his authority within the ADVENT structure.

 

Just as quickly, the rest of the squad moved in, beginning their attack. The general stood tall, directing orders to his troops as they began to fall by XCOM's rifles. Price lined up his shot, and all Weiss could do was keep staring through the binoculars.

“I've got you, you little bastard,” Price muttered.

Unexpectedly, the general fell over dead as another shot rang out. It wasn't from Price's rifle, the sound was different, and the angle the general fell from was wrong. What had happened?

“Report!” Price shouted into his radio. “Where's that sniper?!”

 

“Not a damn clue, Price!” Leftenant Voll shouted back, the sound of gunfire being picked up by her radio. “We're pulling out, taking too much fire!”

Price stood up and looked at each building around them, evidently trying to find a sniper that may or may not even be there. His scanning must have picked up something. He pointed to a roof just a little ways away, ordering Weiss to follow him. On the way down, Price informed the squad he had found the sniper, and to rendezvous on his position.

 

Climbing up the multiple staircases to reach the top was harder than Weiss could have expected. She was dead-tired by the time they made it to the roof, but it didn't seem to affect Price. He was as vigorous as ever, yelling at her to keep up. Trailing behind, all Weiss could do was watch as Price kicked in the door to the roof. She joined him, three minutes later and panting heavily.

 

“Who are you?!” Price demanded, his rifle aimed at the unknown sniper. “Show yourself!”

The sniper turned, their hands raised. They had a mask concealing their face, a strange screen-like thing with three lines forming an inverted triangle. Everything about them was either a dark purple, or a bright teal. They slowly moved to take off their mask, revealing an older, dark-skinned woman with white hair, an eyepatch covering her right eye.

 

Almost immediately, Price sighed, lowering his rifle. “Lot of people thought you died, Amari.”

“Amari” smiled, but Weiss could tell that smile hid a lifetime of pain. “Well, as you can see, I'm alive and well.” _Strange._ Her voice was almost song-like, rising and falling with each word.

“Hmm,” Price hummed, lighting a cigar. “Debatable. Well, Amari? Ready to get back in the fight?”

“I never left it. I just didn't have XCOM's resources.”

 

Price shrugged, tapping ashes off his cigar. “You've always got a home with us, Amari. I suppose you're Shrike, then? Central will be glad to know we made contact with you.”

Amari smiled, extending a hand to Price. “Lead the way, Price. I never much liked Romania anyway.”

Price sighed, turning away from Amari's outstretched hand and heading down the stairs, gesturing for Weiss to follow him. The three headed down the stairs, where halfway down muffled gunfire broke out.

“Price!” Voll shouted over the radio, “you gotta get down here quick! ADVENT's all over the place!”

 

“Bloody hell,” Price muttered, gesturing for Weiss to double-time it. “Report, Leftenant!”

“Fuckin' what else do I gotta say, Price?! Where the hell are you?”

Price, Weiss and Amari moved as fast as they possibly could down the stairs as Price relayed their position to Voll, bursting out back into the street. The gunfire rang out, echoing across the city as it emanated from the combat zone, only growing in intensity as the three ran to it. There, the squad had already engaged with what must have been ADVENT – Weiss saw no other explanation for the people covered in black armor, firing weapons that ejected red bursts of energy. _I thought they didn't have Dust here?_ Weiss wondered as she took cover.

 

“Focus fire on that officer!” Voll yelled, pointing to a man clad in red armor. His helmet covered all of his face, excluding his mouth, and he had a small cape on his shoulder that flowed with each movement he made. It was almost like the one Ruby wore, except much smaller, and no black accent, of course.

“Over there!” a man with olive skin shouted, pointing to another enemy in all-white armor, with gold accents and a design similar to the square's fountain on the helmet. On it's back was a strange device, emitting purple energy that radiated with an intense glow. Unlike the other enemy soldiers, its weapon too was all-white, in contrast to the black rifles the others wielded.

 

“Baseplate,” Price shouted, speaking into his radio, “are you picking this up? Any intel on this one?”

“ADVENT appears to have been deploying their so-called 'Priests' into active combat,” Tygan answered. “These units have strong Psionic potential, and cannot be underestimated.”

Across the square, the ADVENT officer pointed to Leftenant Voll, shouting something in a strange language that made no sense to Weiss. Four soldiers moved out immediately after, splitting to pincer them on their flanks. The man with olive skin took up his machine gun, firing as fast as he could aim the sights at the enemy, while gunshots from other squadmembers rang out to try to counter their enemy. Price abandoned using his rifle, instead pulling out a pistol and returning fire as ADVENT began to shoot up their cover.

 

“Just like Budapest, right, Price?” Amari commented, a sly smile on her face as she checked ammo in a pistol of her own.

“You and I remember Budapest a lot differently, Amari,” Price replied.

Weiss popped out of cover to fire a burst just long enough to see the so-called “Priest” take the device from its back, allowing a ball of the purple energy to gather in its hand, and then throwing it at the man in the squad who was perpetually smoking a cigarette. The energy exploded as it hit him, and he stumbled back, the cigarette falling from his mouth. His eyes grew wide, and he shouted _“My vse umrem!”_ as he ran off in a random direction, throwing wide, unaimed shots at the aliens as he ran.

 

“Goddammit,” Voll muttered. “Hey! Tang! Go fucking help him! I'll cover you!”

Tang nodded, ducking and weaving between alien and friendly fire as Weiss did what she could to help give him covering fire as he ran to his buddy. Weiss took aim at another target, and realized she had claimed her first kill. A loud shot rang out, and she saw the officer fall out of the corner of her eye, having broken out of cover to aid one of his troops. Amari held the rifle that delivered the fatal shot, quickly readjusting her aim to fire on the Priest. With the other enemy soldiers dead, all fire could be focused on the Priest now. He tried to fire back, grazing the squad machine gunner, but ultimately, his efforts were for naught, and he fell, dead.

 

“We're out of here!” Price shouted, already breaking cover to head out. Just as quickly, the rest of the squad headed out as well, rushing as fast as they could out of the area. Voll shouted at the others to keep moving, unless they wanted to be left behind, and Price had already begun calling for the Skyranger to pick them up. The rendezvous point was set – just like they went in, they'd go out through the forest, and there they went.

 

From behind them, Weiss heard the now-familiar sound of alien rifle fire. A guttural scream came out from the olive-skinned machine gunner.

“RAUL!” Voll shouted, pausing to pick him up. Blood was all over the front of his uniform, and he had dropped his machine gun. As he was lifted over Leftenant Voll's shoulders, Weiss could see the same red blood dripping out of him, falling onto the broken ground.

“Keep moving! Go!” Price urged, stopping only to fire on the aliens behind them.

Weiss stole a glance to their previous position – the Priest had risen again, firing back with a vengeance. The shots from his rifle zipped past her head as she ran, mixing with the panicked shouts from the squad as they headed into the forest.

 

After what seemed like ages of running, they made it to the Skyraner, where Leftenant Voll and Raul were loaded up first, followed by the smoker, Tang, and finally, Weiss, Price and Amari. Already, Voll had produced some kind of medical equipment – it's what Weiss assumed it was, anyway, since she didn't see another reason to be injecting another person with whatever was contained in these vials.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Voll repeated, slapping Raul to keep him awake. Eventually, his eyes closed, and he drew a final breath. Grinding her teeth in anger, Voll slammed her fist on Raul's chest.

“Bloody hell,” Price muttered. “Baseplate. Be advised. We lost one.”

“Who was it?” Bradford asked. He sounded… weary. Depressed, maybe.

 

“Corporal Raul Pugliese.”


	4. Get Together

The ride back to the _Avenger_ was less than pleasant. Leftenant Voll, after Corporal Pugliese's death, had immediately begun shouting at the smoker, blaming him for Raul's death. “If it hadn't been for you flipping your shit,” she shouted, “we wouldn't be here!” The man, who Weiss now knew as Sokolovka, only stared at Pugliese's dead body silently, unable or unwilling to defend himself.

 

Weiss had barely expected her first combat mission to end with a casualty. The way they had been acting before taking off, the squad seemed self-confident in themselves, prepared to take on any alien force with a vigor Weiss hadn't seen since she left Remnant. They had been relatively broken by just this death and the revelation of Amari's survival. Weiss could barely imagine what their reactions could be if they had to deal with the creatures of Grimm. Maybe the alien's first arrival had broken them in the same way?

 

Upon returning to the _Avenger,_ Corproal Pugliese's body was taken off, and Leftenant Voll retreated to a corner of the barracks, throwing her armor off with a barely contained disgust and rage. The others milled about, with only Price and Amari appearing to have an actual purpose.

“Schnee!” Price called, waving for her to follow him. “Come with me.”

Weiss did so, falling in behind Price and Amari. Where were they heading? Weiss wasn't familiar with this area of the _Avenger._ Most other hallways she walked down were packed with equipment or posters featuring people she had seen in the barracks, but these halls were devoid of any such features. Instead, they were smooth, an off-white she hadn't often seen before. Price and Amari seemed to forget Weiss was even with them halfway through the journey, since Amari cleared her throat with about as much subtlety as a Nuckalavee.

“I see Sergeant Voll hasn't changed much since I left.”

“It's _Leftenant_ Voll now. Got promoted when Bachmann got himself killed.”

“Oh,” Amari said, with a tone of surprise. “My apologies, Price. I didn't know.”

 

“How could you?” Price said, his voice trailing off as Weiss became distracted.

_Wait._ Weren't these the same people? She had only ever heard Voll referred to by “Leftenant” before, so why did Amari call her “Sergeant”? Something didn't make sense here.

“I'm not blaming _you_ for his death,” Price said, briefly interrupting Weiss's thoughts.

Amari drew a sharp breath. “You could. Should, even. I abandoned all of you.”

“Well,” Price muttered, rolling his shoulders. “Like I said back in Cluj, lot of people thought you died.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, readjusting her grip on the rifle's strap. “Perhaps it would have been better if it stayed that way.”

 

This was all so strange. How did these people keep anyone straight? People changing names was an oddity back home – here it seemed like it happened ever other week. Maybe she was missing something? Maybe it'd be best to ask. After all, she assumed these people had some sort of ritual about it – they talked an awful lot about people being promoted.

“Um, excuse me,” Weiss said, causing the two old officers to glance back at her. “I'm… sorry for interrupting, but, um, is it… common for people to change their names when they get promoted?”

 

Both Price and Amari stopped, turning to look at her strangely. Was she not supposed to ask about this?

“What on earth are you talking about?” Price asked.

“Well, you just called Voll 'Sergeant', but Captain Price kept calling her 'Leftenant' today. And, well, it sounds like there's a lot of people named Corporal and Private, from what I heard...”

 

Amari tilted her head down, smiling and laughing quietly. Price stared at Weiss for a few moments, before he too began to chuckle.

“Oh, child,” Amari said in between bursts of soft laughter. “Where did you find this one, Price? I haven't had a laugh like that in a long time.”

“It's a long story, Amari. From what I understand, Schnee here's learning as she goes.”

“Is that right?” Amari asked, smiling at Weiss. “Well, regardless, you're hearing ranks, child, not people's names. Just a bit of formality in our little resistance.”

 

“Oh,” Weiss said, feeling more than a little embarrassed. It should have been obvious, at least a little, right? She must have looked like a fool.

“Alright, come on,” Price said, jerking his head down the hall. “We've got to report to the Commander and Central.”

“Yes, how is the Commander? I've heard he's - “

“Dead,” Price replied coldly. “Okorie's Commander now.”

Amari stopped in her tracks, furrowing her brow at Price. “Dead? That can't be right.”

“It is,” Price said, barely even slowing down. “Died right with Soap.”

“Oh, John,” Amari said, falling in next to Price and reaching out to touch his shoulder. “I'm so sorry.”

 

_How many of the people they knew had died?_ Weiss asked herself. She counted no less than three so far. Weiss remembered seeing posters on the way over here that encouraged the _Avenger's_ crew and garrison to remember the sacrifice of dozens, either listing off names, a profile of their face, or an epitaph to honor their memory. More than that, though, she remembered how hard it was to lose Pyrrha. She had seen the effect it had on Jaune – was Price feeling the same way? The way he spoke of “Soap” made it sound like he and whoever “Soap” was were close.

 

Price jerked his shoulder away, punching a combination into a keypad, which opened the door they had now approached. This must have been where they were to report to the Commander and Central. The door opened, and the trio stepped in. Immediately, Weiss was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people working inside the area. Scientists discussed theories among themselves, technicians worked on computers solving various issues and monitoring signals, and tacticians gestured to a three-dimensional image of what must have been this world, with marks appearing to better display their points.

 

Price led Amari and Weiss up to an elevated area, where Central Officer Bradford and Commander Okorie stood, observing the goings-on of the command area. Price and Amari, on instinct, saluted the two, standing at attention. Weiss tried her best to imitate them – it must have been respectful, right?

 

“Back with us, Amari?” Central asked, looking her over. “It's been what, ten years?”

“Closer to twelve, I believe,” Amari corrected.

_Twelve years?_ Weiss thought, trying to hide her shock. How could someone avoid their friends for _twelve years?_ Not even Blake had been able to stay away from her teammates for more than a year. Amari had been fighting the aliens, separately from the war they were waging here, for this long? How had nobody suspected?

“Central, Commander,” Price said, gesturing to Amari. “Meet Shrike.”

Commander Okorie smiled, extending a hand to Amari. “So you are the one who has been ADVENT's second biggest problem. It is an honor to meet you.”

 

“Do I hear a hint of Nigerian in your accent?” Amari replied, smiling as well. “I loved visiting Lagos when I was with Overwatch.”

“A lovely city – perhaps better if the aliens had not seen fit to rebuild it in their image. But, more importantly. Why come in from the cold now, Amari?”

Amari sighed, her smile fading. “Well. I don't think I have a good reason. I was planning to just keep running after today. But, seeing Price again certainly compelled me to stay, see how it is. After all, I can't leave this fighting to all the young men.”

 

Commander Okorie nodded. “Well, Captain, we would love to have you back. We could always use a woman with your experience on our side. There's a few people who I know would be glad to see you again.”

“You're not thinking of giving me my old command back, are you?” Amari asked warily, her body language suddenly becoming unsure of herself.

“Andreev's a Lieutenant now,” Price commented, “but other than that, they're all there. Been a while since we had the officers to fill out the squads.”

“Well, Amari?” Bradford asked, folding his arms. “Want back in the fight with us?”

 

Amari smiled graciously, then nodded. “It'll be good to rejoin XCOM. I suppose I should go break the good news?”

“Indeed, go ahead,” Commander Okorie said, turning to Price and Weiss as she left. “So, Price, I understand you lost a soldier today?”

“Yeah,” Price muttered, lighting a cigar. Commander Okorie winced, but didn't appear to be too upset about his smoking. “Sokolovka got panicked. That new ADVENT unit, had some kind of Psionic weapon.”

“Concerning,” Commander Okorie noted. “If we had recovered their body, we could have had Doctor Ludwig examine it… perhaps another time, then.”

“Thing's otherworldly, like a lot of their Psionic units,” Price said. “I watched it go down, Pugliese put an entire mag into the thing, but two minutes later it was back up and shooting at us. Could still count the bullet holes.”

 

“That's new,” Bradford said. “Definitely something the Science Team will be interested in.”

Price nodded in agreement, briefly glancing to Weiss as if he had forgotten something. He shook his head slightly, checking to make sure Central and the Commander didn't need him anymore, and led Weiss away from the command center. He promised “answers” on something soon enough, but Weiss wasn't entirely sure _what_ he was going to give answers on. Once outside the commander center, he paused.

 

“Let me ask you something,” Price said, folding his arms. “Did you understand a word of that conversation in there?”

“No,” Weiss replied.

“Figured,” he said, puffing on the cigar. “Right. Psionics. Aliens use latent abilities we used to call Molecular Control. By using their mind, they can do things most people call impossible, like panicking Sokolovka for no reason similar to what you saw today. We've even gotten scattered reports the aliens can influence people's minds and incite them to fight their own teammates. In addition to that, Psionics is how ADVENT keeps command and control of their forces. Every soldier you saw today is linked to one another through their minds, it's how ADVENT reacts so quickly.”

 

Weiss blinked, trying to comprehend what Price was saying. “I understand,” Weiss blatantly lied. It sounded nearly impossible, but the more she thought about it, the more it just sounded like Aura from home. Maybe this world wasn't as different as she thought. Sure, they didn't have to face the creatures of Grimm, but it sounded like the aliens were an issue all their own along the same lines.

 

“Right,” Price muttered. “Go get yourself some food and rest, Schnee.”

Weiss nodded, heading to the mess hall she had been shown to earlier. Already, there were plenty of tables full of people and food, with some groups silent and keeping to themselves, while others were alive with conversation. Weiss gathered up a random collection of fruits and other foods that looked palatable, setting her tray down in a small, secluded table in the corner of the mess hall, letting out an exhausted breath as she did so. Everything was aching, and her arms were heavy, weak.

 

She thought she had earned a friend in Price, but it looked more like he regarded her as a mere annoyance. Maybe she'd prove her worth to him. Well, actually, she _had_ to, Weiss reasoned. How else could she get back home if nobody cared about her plight?

 

Her choice of seat accidentally got her near where people deposited their dishes, and by chance General O'Neill headed by. Well, it was better than asking _nobody,_ and she didn't see one of the other doctors around. Maybe he had some answers for her.

“Um, excuse me, General,” Weiss said, clearing her throat.

O'Neill looked around, confused and surprised by the sudden voice, spotting Weiss. “Oh, it's you,” he said, relaxing a little. “What do you need?”

“I was wondering if there had been any updates on finding a way home for me?”

 

O'Neill wet his lips, deliberately avoiding Weiss's eyes as he tried to find words. “Look, it's been a day, kid. We're still trying to work through the paperwork of all the mumbo-jumbo you talked to us about yesterday. I'd say it's gonna be a while, but _don't_ get your hopes up. A lot of this stuff was experimental even when we had the benefit of being part of an actual _nation_.” He turned to leave, but paused. “Listen, sorry. You're far from home. I get it. But be a bit patient. I don't know how fast science went on your world, but here, it's gonna take a while longer.”

Weiss nodded, sighing as O'Neill left. She ate her food in silence, wondering if there ever would be a way home.

 

* * *

 

 

After finishing dinner, Weiss returned to the barracks with little else to do. The Skyranger was gearing up for another mission, and she looked upon the soldiers collecting in front of it. A black man stood at the front of four others, shouting at them, but above the noise of the engines she couldn't hear him. Another person headed over, and the black man saluted him, which was returned. A bored-looking man with a rifle must have said something amusing, since even over the engines Weiss could hear laughter emanating from them.

 

“Remember, men,” a man clad in blue clothing shouted, his eyes covered by a helmet. “The flag was still there! And if a piece of fabric can do it, so can _you_ daisies!”

“Sure thing, First Sarge,” Corporal – wait, no, that wasn't her name, that was her _rank_ – said. It was one of the same women Weiss had seen this morning. She had taught Weiss how to shoot, handed her ammo.

“Oh, hey, it's Misfit,” Freeman muttered, having appeared from somewhere else as the rest of this new squad dispersed. He was snacking on… something, what exactly Weiss wasn't sure. All she knew was that it was orange. _What was his deal with orange?_

“Sup, Freeman,” the Corporal said.

“Not much, Engberg. You know, the usual, kicking ass, taking names. Want a Cheeto?”

 

Engberg chuckled, stopping just in front of Weiss's bunk. She and Freeman both had wandered their way over somehow.

“Nah. Killip would probably kill me if he saw me eating that junk. Don't you have some elder god to kill?”

“Okay, wait, hold on,” Freeman said, holding up an orange dust-covered finger. “ _That_ was real, okay? I know what I saw. I know what I fought.”

“Yeah, and Ludwig collects dead alien ears. You're gonna spook the new kid.”

 

“Her?” Freeman asked, gesturing to Weiss. “Pfft. Good. She _should_ be scared of me.”

“Freeman, not even the tiny Sectoids are afraid of you,” Engberg said. “You're blaze-fucking-orange, for crying out loud.”

“Only until I get new armor!” Freeman shouted in vain as Engberg walked off.

Weiss watched Freeman walk away, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. Even after a full day with this group, their dynamics and rules made little sense to her.

 

She really wanted to be home.

 

* * *

 

 

Another day, another round of training, led by Corporal Engberg and supervised by Price and Major Carter. Both officers took turns critiquing Weiss's shooting, teaching her how to make her shots count. Their methods couldn't have been more dissimilar – Major Carter advised her gently, helping Weiss readjust her aim and demonstrating the proper technique, while Price stood a distance away, shouting short snippets of criticism repeatedly until she got it right.

 

The training was tough, and it almost made this entire fight not even worth it for Weiss. But, if she quit at the first sign of trouble, what did that make her? It would undermine her time at Beacon, for one. If she quit here, there'd be no way to go back home, and the idea that she'd be stuck here was a far worse fate than anything else she could imagine.

 

Right in the middle of her daily training, Weiss was brought out by General O'Neill, dragging her towards Price.

“We've got ourselves a problem,” O'Neill said, frowning. “Another signal, this one in China.”

Weiss remembered seeing something about China on the glimpses of the maps she had seen strewn about the Avenger. If she recalled where the last mission was correctly, it was far, far to the east.

“Shen got the right readings on it this time?” Price asked, folding his arms. “I'd love to kill another ADVENT general, but something tells me they're not too keen on losing another one of their senior officers.”

“Yes, this one's confirmed. Look, I'm not going to try to explain what happened in Romania – it's not my department anyway.”

 

“Right, so do you want Bravo to investigate this one again?”

General O'Neill nodded. “May as well bring the kid with you again. Can never be too careful.”

Price hummed, deep in thought. “Guess you're right about that. Alright Schnee, get yourself ready for combat. We're leaving in 5.”

Weiss nodded, heading off to the armory to resupply her ammunition and grab a combat kit, a piece of equipment she was sorely lacking in the interim. Within a few minutes, the rest of the squad – sans Corporal Pugliese, of course – arrived as well, and soon they were away, on a trip to China.


	5. Reunion

The Skyranger began to hover over China, and just like before, four ropes descended. In front of her, members of Bravo disappeared into the heavy fog that had settled over the ground, followed by Weiss and Price. Just as soon as they had made it safely onto the ground, the Skyranger left, quickly replaced with similar-sounding engines that zipped overhead.

 

“I can't see anything in this fog,” Sokolovka said. Voll shushed him immediately.

“Must be ADVENT. Their scanners can't find us in this fog,” Price said, keeping his voice low. “Maintain this interval.”

The squad dispersed slightly, maintaining at least some form of sight on one another. The heavy fog made it nearly impossible to see farther than the next person away. All Weiss could see was Price on her left, Sokolovka to her front, and somebody whose name she didn't know – Tang, maybe? - on her right. A slow, methodical push forward ensued, but how far they had gone was lost on Weiss. No landmarks and barely any sense of space made distance just a far-away, mythological concept.

 

Out of nowhere, the sound of weapons fire forced them to the ground. Weiss could hear shouting, but it was distant, and not something she recognized.

“Where'd that come from?” Price asked.

“Sounded close,” Voll said. “Wasn't aimed at us, though.”

Another shout in that strange language.

“Is that ADVENT?” Weiss asked. Immediately, Sokolovka and the other on her right turned, giving her strange looks.

“No,” the man on her right said, disgusted. “That's Chinese. Jesus, have you never heard Chinese before?”

“No?”

 

It didn't seem like he cared. The man turned to Price, or at least where he thought Price was. “Captain, if we came across Chinese rebels, I can find out if they saw anything.”

“Do it,” Price ordered. “Keep close, all of you. If they're shooting at ADVENT, we're liable to get caught in the crossfire. Tang, go ahead and make sure they don't shoot us?”

“On it,” he replied, stepped off and lugging his machine gun with him. He disappeared into the fog, and soon Weiss could hear more shouting, which must have been the Chinese Tang was talking about. After a few minutes, Tang called the squad up, and as they neared a small village, the fog began to clear a little. It was still thick, but at least she could see a little farther now.

 

“Alright,” Price said, heading to Tang. “What's the situation?”

“Sir, they're saying they found a woman here when ADVENT rolled in. She ran off, but she got herself a weapon.”

“Nothing about those Grimm?”

“No, nothing about that,” Tang replied. “All they said they found was the woman.”

 

Price nodded. “They know which way she went?”

“Yeah,” Tang said. “That way. They said ADVENT followed her.”

“Looks like we've got ourselves a bit of a rescue mission,” Price said, ordering the squad to form up and follow him.

This wasn't their original mission, but Weiss couldn't exactly interrupt to point this out. It sounded like whoever the Chinese rebels had contact with, they needed some help, as fast. They moved for about another ten minutes, following the sound of rapidly fading gunfire. Either whoever ADVENT was chasing was extremely fast, or they were taking out groups of them as they ran. Either was plausible, really.

 

The fog began to clear up in earnest now, and suddenly Weiss could see the locale for all it was, reminding her of Mistral. The rolling hills and small clusters of trees were breathtaking, at least to her. For a little while, she felt like she was back at home, just another reminder of the situation she had gotten herself into.

“There they are!” Tang shouted, breaking Weiss out of her thoughts. More gunfire echoed from the valley below them. Down at the bottom of said valley, Weiss could see someone engaged with what looked like a horde of ADVENT. They had surrounded the poor soul, but whoever it was fought with a vigor that was hard to match.

 

“Go! Go! Go!” Price shouted, setting up his rifle on a nearby rock. “I'll cover you! Get to that contact and help them out!”

Weiss, Voll, Sokolovka and Tang rushed down the slope, taking cover behind rocks and trees that offered some solid protection. Voll kept shouting out orders for individuals to fire and then move, leapfrogging with them as Weiss did her best to keep up with the commands. She lost track of how many ADVENT soldiers were killed by her hand – she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to know to begin with, and the impersonal nature of their battle made it hard to keep track.

 

Eventually, between Price providing select marksman shots and the squad's combined fire, ADVENT thinned out. Even with this danger past them, Voll kept the squad in cover as Tang shouted at the unknown contact.

“Tang,” Price asked over the squad radio, “what's going on down there?”

“I don't know,” he answered. “Maybe she doesn't speak Mandarin?”

“Better figure it out quick,” Price said. “She looks ready to use that shotgun against you.”

 

Tang shouted something in Chinese again as Weiss edged closer to the rock he was hiding behind by Voll's silent order.

“I'm gonna do it if you don't answer me!” came an altogether too familiar voice.

Weiss furrowed her brow as she hid behind the rock. This didn't make sense. How was Yang here? _Why_ was Yang here? There had to be some kind of mistake. Weiss was tired, stressed – she was imagining things, _surely._ As Tang and “Yang” shouted at each other, Weiss peeked out over the rock, and saw her theory get blown apart in a second.

 

Yes, that _was_ Yang, and she _was_ here, and she was pointing a shotgun at Tang.

 

Weiss ducked back behind the rock, tapping Tang on the leg. He took his eyes off Yang for a second, looking at Weiss. “The fuck do you want?” he asked.

“I know her,” she explained. “Let me talk to her – she'll listen to me.”

“Tang,” Price reminded, “better do something quick. I'm taking the shot if she pulls that trigger.”

Tang shook his head, sighing. “Alright,” he said to Weiss. “Do whatever – Price, the kid's gonna talk to her.”

 

Weiss heard a few barely-concealed murmurs of wonder from the squad, but stepped out beyond the safety of cover anyway as Tang retreated. She expected it, but watching Yang suddenly turn the shotgun on her, her eyes full of rage and pure hatred, made Weiss take a step back in shock and fear. Weiss's panicked eyes must have made an impact on Yang, since she dropped the shotgun and ran right to her, hugging Weiss tightly.

 

“Oh my God, Weiss,” Yang said, practically killing her with the hug.

“It's really, _really_ good to see you, Yang,” Weiss said, trying her hardest to not cry. “I've missed you so much.”

“What's going on?” Yang asked, pulling back to look at Weiss, concerned. “Do you know how weird all of this is?” She paused again, blinking as she looked at Weiss's clothes. “What the hell you even _wearing?_ ”

 

“I can get you answers, Yang, trust me,” Weiss said.

“No, you don't get it,” Yang said, breaking off completely now. “Ember Celica doesn't work, my fucking arm's back, and these people keep shouting at me and I can't understand them. I was out looking for you, Weiss, and… well, next thing I know, I'm here.”

Weiss let out a short gasp. “You… you were out looking for me?”

“Well, of course, stupid,” Yang said, flashing her signature smile. “You just up and disappeared one day. We… we didn't know where you went.”

“I don't think I know, either,” Weiss admitted.

 

“Hate to break up the party,” Price said, having suddenly appeared next to them and smoking a cigar. “ADVENT's on their way, back in force. We're getting out of here, Skyranger's close by for pickup.”

“Understood, sir,” Weiss replied.

“Wait, hold on Weiss,” Yang said. “Where's Ruby? Where's Blake? Where's _everyone?_ Who are _these_ guys?”

“I can explain it later, but I can't do it here,” Weiss said, trying to take Yang with her, but she was firmly planted where she stood. Weiss knew she wouldn't ever be strong enough to move Yang Xiao Long.

 

“Weiss,” she said, suddenly serious, her eyes welling up. “How do I know all of this is real? I mean, we're both younger, my arm's back… I'm pretty sure I'm dead.”

She had a point. For all Weiss knew, Yang had it dead on. Nothing was making much sense to Weiss either, and she was supposed to have _answers_ for Yang. How could Weiss convince Yang this was all too real when Weiss barely even knew if it was real herself?

 

Price stepped between Weiss and Yang, stomping out his cigar. “Alright, I don't know who you are, but you and Schnee can have a nice catch-up session later.” He gestured to the dead ADVENT on the ground, saying, “But right now, more of _these_ are on their way. Now, I could leave you here with an empty shotgun against them - “

“You wouldn't dare,” Yang shot back.

“ _Or,”_ Price replied, ignoring Yang, “I could bring you back to the _Avenger,_ and you can make yourself useful like Schnee is. I'm picking the latter option for you because I'm not a fan of leaving useful people to die by ADVENT.”

 

“What the hell is ADVENT?” Yang asked.

“You'll learn on the way!” Voll shouted, gesturing for the rest of the squad to follow her to the Skyranger.

 

* * *

 

 

So far, Yang wasn't impressed with the answers she had gotten. The only solid one was that she was on a different world, but even that was met with a degree of suspicion. These people seemed pretty similar to those she knew, if you ignored the fact that not a one of them regarded her as a _person._

 

And yet, here she was, sitting in a cold lab, with two men staring at her like she was some kind of freak. The one called Tygan was at least somewhat friendly, but she couldn't say the same for Ludwig.

 

“Miss Xiao Long,” Tygan said, adjusting his glasses. “I understand this must be uncomfortable, but-”

“But nothing,” she shot back, folding her arms. “Weiss told me she had answers. Where is she?”

“Zere is nozzing to fear, ve vill treat you vell.”

“Listen, pal, I've heard this song and dance before. You think I'm some harmless little girl, well, newsflash – I'm the deadliest thing in _any_ universe. You wanna have a go?”

 

Yang heard the unmistakeable sound of a weapon being readied. She glanced around – Ludwig had produced a pistol, holding it low, but clearly ready to use it if necessary. _Whatever_ , Yang thought. _I'm faster than he is._

“From what I understand, Miss Xiao Long,” Tygan continued, ignoring Ludwig. “You and Miss Schnee come from the same world, Remnant. Do you know how you got here?”

“If I knew, don't you think I'd be trying to get back there, genius?”

“Zis is certainly a change from _Fräulein_ Schnee,” Ludwig commented, glancing at Tygan. “Not even vahn straight answer.”

 

“I'm _right here,_ you know,” Yang reminded him, furrowing her brow.

“ _Und_ you have giving nozzing so far!” he shot back, frowning. “You're _useless_ if you say nozzing.”

“Well, excuse me if I can't tell you how I ended up on some world I don't even want to _be_ on,” Yang said, feeling her face flood with anger. “Yeah, go from one shitty world to another, just what I wanted.”

“Not a big fan of Remnant, I take it?” Tygan asked, clicking his pen in preparation to take notes.

 

“I just want to be back with my sister,” Yang admitted, her shoulders drooping. “With Blake. Look, can you guys get me home or not?”

“I'm afraid not,” Tygan said, sadly shaking his head. “Uh, Miss Schnee discussed Dust with us briefly when we first met her. Can you add anything to what she's said?”

“I mean, she's the expert on that sort of stuff, not me. All I know right now is Ember Celica doesn't work.”

 

Ludwig's brow furrowed, and he narrowed his eyes as he looked at Yang. “ _Und_ vhat is zis 'Ember Celica' you speak of?”

“These babies,” Yang said, showing off her gauntlets. “If these worked, I could knock the dudes I fought today across the room.”

“Fascinating,” Tygan said. “Would you mind if we conducted some experiments with these?”

 

Yang's triumphant smile faded, replaced by a frown she hoped would get these guys to back off. “Yeah, I _would,”_ she said flatly. “Don't touch my weapons.”

“It doesn't _verk_ anymore,” Ludwig said, sounding irritated. “Vat is ze issue?”

“How would _you_ like it if I took that peashooter of yours and rammed it up your ass?”

“Alright,” Tygan said, breaking up a potential fight. “I think we're done here. Doctor Ludwig, if you would escort Miss Xiao Long to the holding area? Until further orders from the Commander, of course.”

Ludwig chuckled evilly, raising the pistol and aiming it at Yang. “Vith pleasure.”

 

On cue, two soldiers appeared, one holding a pistol with a rifle slung over his back. The other was the woman she had seen when Weiss had rescued her, the one they kept calling Voll. Yang recognized her shrill voice anywhere. Yang _wanted_ to fight, she wanted to knock every single one of them out and be done with it, but she knew she was outgunned here. If Dust didn't work, then there was a good chance her Semblance didn't either. She didn't have much of a choice.

 

The two soldiers led her out, with Ludwig pressing his pistol to her back the whole time. She was shown to an empty, padded room, that smelled of must and death. The one with the rifle, wearing glasses Yang really wished she had right about now, paused as he began to lock the door.

“Sorry, ankle-biter,” he said quietly. “Look on the bright side. Commander'll probably give Doc a real gobful when she hears about this.”

Yang didn't answer. She barely even knew what the hell he was saying. He shrugged, muttering something about how she didn't have to talk, and locked the door, sealing Yang inside.

 

* * *

 

 

It didn't take long for Yang to be released from the prison. The same soldier from before, the one with the weird hat and glasses, took her out and introduced Yang to where she'd be staying, telling her to find a bunk and get settled in. Somebody would be around soon to help her out, he said.

 

The hubbub of the barracks room was overwhelming, but nothing Yang wasn't already used to. She sought out Weiss, hoping to not only get a bunk near her, but also have at least _someone_ friendly to her plight here. Yang moved through the forest of bunks, finding an unoccupied bed directly next to Weiss's.

 

“God,” Yang said, hugging her friend tightly again. “You have _no_ idea how happy I am that you're here.”

“And you for me,” Weiss said, returning the hug. “I hope they didn't treat you too poorly.”

“Well, they didn't exactly roll out the red carpet for me.”

Weiss broke from the hug, halfway disappointed and sad for Yang's sake. “I'm sorry, Yang. I just… I don't know, I thought they'd be less wary if you were my friend.”

“Look, either way,” Yang said, “it's behind us. Any idea how we ended up here?”

 

“I don't know for sure,” Weiss said, taking a seat on her bunk.

Yang did the same, trying to get comfortable on the old bed. “Well, what _do_ you know?”

“I _think_ we're here because of that Dust experiment I did,” Weiss theorized, putting a hand on her chin. “What I _don't_ know is why it affected you, or why so late. How long were you out looking for me?”

“I dunno,” Yang said, shrugging. “Like, a week maybe? We didn't really think about how long we were looking.”

 

Weiss only hummed, deep in thought and completely distracted from anything Yang was saying. Was she even aware Yang was _right there?_ God, Weiss _always_ did this.

“Dammit, Weiss,” Yang said, unimpressed with her musing. “This isn't helping! How are we going to get back _home?_ These people are too focused on their own fight to help _us.”_

“I don't believe that. The Commander said she would help us.”

“Are you _joking?”_ Yang asked, narrowing her eyes. “One person saying something and you're convinced?”

 

Weiss was about to answer, but heavy bootsteps stopped her. Both she and Yang turned to look at the newcomer – it was the weird guy in the blaze orange suit of armor. “What the _FUCK,_ ” he yelled, looking them over. “Is this a _joke?!_ Why the hell do we have _kids_ here?”

“Who are you calling a _kid,_ Blaze-Orange?” Yang asked, instantly standing up, her fists clenched.

“I'm calling _you_ a kid, Blondie,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “Goddammit, this isn't a fucking playpen! And _you!_ This one even has a _gun!_ Are we handing them out like candy now?!”

“For your information,” Weiss said, folding her arms and frowning. “I'm qualified to carry this weapon. Major Carter said so.”  


“Fucking _monkeys_ are more qualified to handle guns than you two are!” the man shouted, his eyes wide in anger. “What kind of clown show is this?! Am I going insane?”

Yang felt her cheeks flare up in anger, ready to start swinging. “You better shut up _right now,_ traffic cone, or I'll launch you across the room.”

“What's going on down here?” someone else said, a person clad in white armor, their face obscured by a helmet. “Freeman, shinies, I'm hearing a lot of yelling down here.”

“And who are _you?”_ Yang asked as the new arrival took off their helmet. Freeman's barely-contained smirk and Weiss's subdued gasp told her she probably made a mistake.

 

“ _I'm_ Captain Rex,” the newcomer said. “And as far as _I_ know, you're a freeloader on a military ship.”

“I'm not a freeloader,” Yang retorted. “I'm trying to get back home.”

“From what I understand, you were already at home. Freeman!”

Freeman stiffened up immediately, still grinning. “Yes, sir! I'll throw them out first chance we get!”

Who did this guy think he was? Did this Freeman really think he could take both her and Weiss on? _Yeah, just try it, buddy,_ Yang thought. Captain Rex narrowed his eyes, but he still maintained a fairly stoic look on his face.

 

“That wasn't what I was going to say,” Captain Rex replied. “I'm starting to get tired of you antagonizing everyone you see. Cut it out before someone like the blonde shiny here decides to cut you down to size. I heard Captain Amari's back. Find her for me, please.”

Freeman's face twisted in confusion as he listened to Captain Rex, and his head twitched back and forth between him and Yang as he decided what to do. Eventually, he followed orders and scurried off.

“As for _you two,_ ” Captain Rex said, looking them over, but making a point to lock eyes with Weiss. “I already warned _you_ about what happens if you lie to me. Blonde one, you're on notice. Keep that anger of yours in check. Understood?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Yang said, nodding. It had been a long, _long_ while since someone had ever told her that. It usually didn't end well, but she didn't have Dust here. How could she fight if she didn't have the one thing her weapon needed?

“Ah, for crying out loud, kid, _relax,_ would you?” Captain Rex said, putting his helmet on his bunk. “Just my luck you two shinies are right next to me. I better not have any more issues from you two.”

“None here, sir,” Weiss said.

“Nope, no trouble, sir.” Yang replied.

 

In just a minute, someone new came. This must have been Captain Amari – she headed right to Captain Rex, smiling as she approached. “It's been a long time, hasn't it, Rex?”

“Too long indeed, _ner vod,_ ” Rex said. “What happened, Amari?”

“We can talk about it later,” she said, her smile diminishing. “What was it Freeman was so enigmatic about?”

“Right, yes,” Rex said, gesturing to Yang. “This one seems a bit… out of sorts. I'd try and do something, but…”

“You're not good with recruits,” Amari finished, her smile coming back in force now. “I understand.”

“Well,” Captain Rex said sheepishly. “When you put it like _that…”_

 

Amari quietly laughed, gesturing for Yang to follow her. “Alright, come along, young one,” she said, heading off to another corner of the barracks. Yang fell in behind her, trying to guess what this part of the room held. She could see all sorts of weapons, broadly similar to the ones she had seen in the hands of Atlesian soldiers, but the design was so unfamiliar at the same time.

 

“So…” Yang said, probing into this mysterious woman's history. “You're Captain Amari, right?”

“Mhm,” Amari said. “But call me Ana. I'm not as uptight as some of the young men around here.”

Yang nodded. _Don't call her Amari,_ she noted. _How old is she anyway?_

“I heard Captain Rex gave you a little bit of a warning, hmm?” Amari – _no, wait Ana,_ \- said.

“Yeah,” Yang said, laughing to conceal her nervousness. “He's, uh… a little intense, I guess.”

 

“You three are more similar than you think,” Ana said, with a knowing glance. “At least, if what Price told me about Weiss is correct.”

“You know I'm not from here, then?” Yang asked, surprised.

Ana laughed, settling into a chair and gesturing for Yang to do the same, a collection of weapons between them. “Child, you have a Chinese name but don't look or speak it. You barely recognize things someone from here _would._ You haven't lived under a rock, clearly.”

Well, she had a point. None of it was really helping her figure out where she was or how to get back home, though. Was this how Weiss felt when she went through here the first time?

 

“Go ahead,” Ana said, gesturing to the weapons in front of them. “Pick one up. See what you like. I'm here to answer any questions you have.”

Yang reached out to grab one, before pausing. _Right._ Her arm. She almost forgot about it, forgot about how bizarre it was to have it back. And _really_ back this time, not just a metal arm Atlas had made for her.

“They don't bite,” Ana said.

 

“No, it's not that,” Yang said, sighing in frustration. “I… I lost my arm three years ago. On Remnant. And _for some reason_ I have it back. It's just… I don't even know.”

Ana nodded. “I lost my eye ten years ago,” she said, lifting up her eyepatch to reveal a still-bloodstained eye socket, the eye glossed over and looking useless. “Even now I forget it's not there. A good friend of mine wanted to replace it, give me a bionic one. But I said no.”

Yang blinked as Ana put her eyepatch back on, trying to find a connection. “I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't see how those are the same at all.”

 

“I don't know how or why you arm is back,” Ana said, shrugging. “This world works in mysterious ways, child. For me, my eye is a reminder of what I sacrificed to keep this world safe. I don't know what you associated losing your arm with, but maybe it's all for the better. Hard to use a weapon with a prosthetic, after all.”

 

“I guess,” Yang said, staring at a hand that shouldn't be there.

“Now, go on,” Ana encouraged. “See which one you like best. Take your time.”

Yang obliged her, picking up each one in turn and discarding them as either too light, too heavy, or awkward. She had worked through half the pile until finding one she liked, examining the action closely.

“Do you want to know what that is?” Ana asked, to which Yang nodded. “This is a Saiga 12, semi-automatic magazine fed shotgun. Like with Weiss, we can train you to use it.”

“You'd do that for me?”

 

“Of course,” Ana said, smiling. “The Commander asked you to join in our fight, did she not? What use is a warrior without a weapon?”

Yang paused, unsure how to react. This wasn't what she had expected – the impression the doctors had given off was that they barely even _needed_ her. She certainly didn't think they'd give her a weapon and train her how to use it. Then again, they _had_ done the same for Weiss.

“Yeah, right,” Yang said, nodding in agreement. “Okay. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow,” Amari said. “Get some rest, child, tomorrow will be long day for us all.”

 

Nodding again, Yang returned to her bunk just in time to meet the other soldiers began retiring for the evening. At least, Yang thought it was evening anyway. The lack of windows made it hard to tell time. She settled in as lights began to go out – some, not all, a few were kept on as there was a squad preparing to head off to battle – and drifted away to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

She remembered this. Beacon, the night it fell. The memories of that hellish night were as clear in her mind as if they had happened yesterday. Adam steadily approached her with his blade in hand. His menacing scowl wasn't frightening when Yang was in the moment, but here, in the confines of her mind, it was like being trapped in a room with an angry Grimm.

 

She pushed her fist out, trying to activate the Dust in Ember Celica to form an attack. But, nothing. Her reliable gauntlets fizzled uselessly. She looked down – her right hand, the one she had used to attack, was gone. Somehow, someway, Adam had already taken her arm, and he was closing in on her quickly. Yang tried her other gauntlet – nothing, just like last time. Before she knew it, her gauntlets were gone, like they had disappeared from existence. She had no other choice. Yang charged at Adam, a fist cocked back in preparation to deliver a devastating blow. She felt her mouth opening in a silent battle cry, but like a lot of things from that night it was pointless in the end.

 

He held her in place somehow, holding his hand out to stop her with some sort of invisible force. With a swift flick of his blade, he crossed her neck, and for a moment all seemed alright until the terrible truth hit her. Yang got an excellent view of her body, turned over and over as her head fell to the ground. Her headless body collapsed, useless, as Adam picked up Yang's head and held it in his hand, regarding her almost like a curio.

 

* * *

 

 

Yang bolted upright in the bed, her heart beating a million times a second. The blanket flew to the foot of the bunk. Yang could feel her chest rise and fall heavily with each panicked breath. She looked left, right, then left again, repeating the cycle for a while. Nobody seemed to have noticed. If they did, they must not have cared. On her left, Weiss was peacefully asleep, unaware of what had just happened in Yang's mind.

 

How the fuck was Weiss able to sleep so well in this place? How long had Yang even been asleep? She couldn't tell, and promises of training “tomorrow” bounced around in her head. She shook her head, swallowing hard in an effort to calm herself down, trying to control her breathing and _relax_ so she could sleep. Yang pulled the blanket she had been provided – a scratchy, woolen thing that was way too small, colored an unappealing gray – over herself, trying to get back into a comfortable position.

 

Maybe round two of sleeping would be better.


	6. Friction

Yang was woken up by the sound of someone banging a wooden spoon on a metal trashcan lid, walking around and striking the thing as fast as she could move her hand. The soldier – what was her name again? Endbird or something? - watched soldiers lazily get out of bed, and then pointed a finger at Yang.

“Hey! You!” she shouted. “Get up! Get your gear on!” Her accent was strange. Yang pushed the contemplation about accents out of her mind, groggily getting out of bed and getting her gear together. Next to her, she heard Weiss stirring.

“Get up!” the soldier shouted again, standing next to Weiss. “You're not done yet just because you went into the field!”

Weiss suddenly changed her demeanor, rushing to get her newly-found gear on, and together she and Yang fell in behind the other soldiers. They were taken downstairs to a large room – Weiss had told her this was the shooting range – and from there, they taught Yang how to load, fire, reload, and generally maintain her weapon, among other tasks that Yang eventually figured out and began to perform admirably at.

 

They worked for hours, with the soldiers training them on every aspect of their weapons and drilling them relentlessly. The only breaks were for food, with all other activities strictly for the express purpose of teaching Yang and Weiss how to survive on their ultra-lethal battlefield. Yang returned to her bed just for sleep, only to be greeted by the terrifying nightmares that haunted her. Each night, there was a rehashing of the fall of Beacon, where she tried to find a new way to stop Adam from killing her. Each night, she failed, and she woke up having been slaughtered in a variety of new ways, more and more panicked each time.

 

She hid it well – to Weiss, she put on a front of being the same Yang she had always knew, and as far as the others cared, she was just a plucky, tough-as-nails bitch that didn't want to be fucked with. Maybe the facade was best. Maybe she was just deluding herself. All she needed to do was keep surviving long enough for them to figure out how the hell to get her home.

 

It seemed to be going well, her illusion of being a well-put together and decently adjusted person. She wasn't sure how many days had passed – intense training sessions blurred together, and without windows to tell time, she didn't know if she was up early, late, or right in the middle of the day. Soon, as she got better about reloading her weapon and running the tactical situations XCOM gave her, they became nothing more than rote memorization, training like she had done at Beacon a million times.

 

Maybe that was why XCOM had soon moved on to getting Weiss and Yang, among others, to clean weapons for the people who were out doing the fighting. It was one such day, by her flawed estimation over a week after she had arrived here, that Captain Rex had ordered herself and Weiss to do this menial task.

 

“This is pointless,” Yang said. “They don't trust us, Weiss.”

Weiss remained intensely focused on her task. She was handling Alan's rifle, and both of them were well aware of his threats if something were out of place. He prized the accuracy of his rifle, and barely even let anyone else touch it. The fact that Yang and Weiss were handling it today was mostly because of Captain Rex's orders.

“Weiss, are you even listening to me?”

Weiss looked up, sighing. “Yes, I am. We just… I don't know, we have to be patient, I suppose.”

“We've been here for like, a week, maybe longer. How much more training do we have to _do?”_

 

“I don't know, Yang,” Weiss replied. She looked around, almost as if she were afraid someone would overhear them. “I heard Captain Price said we were in the final stretch.”

“You believe that?” Yang asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I have to. It's the only thing stopping me from going crazy in here.”

Yang shook her head, putting back together the machine gun in front of her. She barely even remembered whose this was – an officer from a squad she had never met. He had shown Yang how to take it apart, but only enough to clean it, and beyond that gave her strict orders not to meddle with it further.

 

“I just don't get it,” Yang finally said. “We can shoot. We know their tactics. We know what we're supposed to be shooting at. What are they holding back from us?”

Weiss sighed again, exasperated. “What do you _want_ me to say, Yang? That there's a conspiracy?”

“No, I just want to know that you're as sick of this as I am.”

“Do you think I haven't been wanting to go out there and prove we're worth the effort? There's a _hierarchy_ here, Yang. We have to respect it.”

“Maybe the hierarchy's not all that it's cracked up to be.”

 

As Yang slid the cover back on top of the machine gun, deliberately looking away from Weiss, she realized the lights had suddenly gone out. They hadn't had dinner yet. Nothing should be going out. The lights came back on, but instead of the soft white they usually were, an eerie, hellish red replaced it.

 

“Ah, _hell_ ,” a man with a yellow hardhat and round goggles on his face said. He grabbed an old rifle that lay by his bedside, slinging it over his back as he sought somebody out. From deeper within the barracks, voices began to shout out, calling for help, demanding to know where lieutenants and captains were, orders to regroup.

 

The PA system crackled to life, and over it, Bradford announced that the _Avenger's_ systems were down, and to brace for impact.

“Impact?” Yang asked. Weiss only shrugged, offering a confused look in response.

“ON THE GODDAMN GROUND!” someone else shouted as he ran past them.

Realizing what must be going on, Yang and Weiss both dove to the floor, making themselves as small as possible. Time seemed to slow down for Yang as she held herself close together, waiting for the awful drop. Eventually, it came, coming with it the horrific sound of metal grinding against metal, and the constant dull rush of ground being chewed up by the massive ship's unscheduled landing. Once the ship came to a halt, alarms began to blare as backup systems came back online, restoring some functionality to the ship.

 

“All hands,” Bradford ordered over the PA system. “Report to the bay ASAP, we have confirmed enemy forces moving in on the _Avenger!_ ”

Yang and Weiss immediately grabbed their weapons, slinging them over their shoulders. Around them, others were doing the same, but it didn't occur to Weiss that she had taken off her field jacket. Yang looked back, watching her try to put on her jacket while having her weapon slung over it.

“Weiss!” Yang shouted, capturing her attention for a short moment. “We don't have time! Come on!”

Weiss obliged her, tossing away the field jacket and only wearing her light blue shirt, rushing to catch up with her. They fell in behind a group of soldiers who had all assembled before one man dressed in blue tactical gear, a helmet covering his upper face. He was standing on some kind of platform. Where had it even come from? Yang didn't remember seeing this before.

 

“ _Listen up, maggots!”_ he shouted, pacing back and forth. “Our great ship is under attack by the _red team,_ and it is our duty as soldiers of this great ship to kill each and every one of those _red team_ bastards! Sun Tzu said 'Winning a hundred wars is not the best thing. The best is to win without having to fight at all.' Men, Sun Tzu is an _idiot!_ And if I ever see him, I _will punch him in his mouth!_ ”

 

“What's he talking about?” Yang quietly asked.

“I have no idea,” Weiss admitted.

 

“FURTHERMORE,” he continued. “We are going to go out there, give them hell, and kick some red team ass! War is like a game of chess: with guts on top of it! And instead of chess pieces, there's just brave blood-hungry sons of bitches who _love war!_ I expect _each and every one of you_ to get a kill, if you return without a kill, **I will send you back out there to fight and kill!** ”

 

A resounding cheer rang out from people who surely knew more than Yang or Weiss did about what this all meant. The ramp ahead of them slowly began to drop, as Bradford again informed them that an alien device was disrupting the _Avenger's_ systems. Their mission – destroy that device by all means necessary. Yang swallowed hard. This would be her first test in this bizarre world. As the ramp hit dirt, squads filtered out, with leaders barking orders left and right.

 

But for Yang and Weiss, they had no direction. Nobody had told them what to do, who to follow.

“You two!” shouted the man from earlier, pointing at them. Standing closer to them, Yang could see he had a small amount of stubble on his face. Must have shaved recently, but not today, apparently. “What squad are you in?”

“We don't have one,” Weiss replied.

“Address me as SIR, cupcake!” he growled. “Alright, since you two don't have a squad, you're on mine for this one. Collagen! Hannah! Keep an eye on them!”

Yang glanced at his uniform as he shouted out orders. There was a small strip above the pocket on the right side of his chest that said “Killip” on it. She remembered hearing something about a ranger named Killip before. Was this him?

 

“Yes, sir,” Weiss said.

“Alright, _ladies,”_ Killip said, turning to face the rest of the squad. “We're moving to kill every last alien we see!”

Yang looked over to see who else followed him – the guy with the hardhart was here. Corporal Engberg was nearby. A woman clad in gray tactical gear was close to a guy who wore a short-sleeve shirt and brown tactical pants, with a hat of some kind on his head.

“Let's go, let's go, let's go!” the last one said, running forward as Killip urged them to follow him.

They pushed up across the field that ADVENT had chosen for them. It was warm, but not too hot, and the trees looked half-dead. Between them and ADVENT, there was a road, with an abandoned building providing solid cover to a group of ADVENT soldiers. The heavy staccato of ADVENT's rifles was punctuated by the low buzzing of multiple machine guns behind her, emphasized by booms from sniper rifles. Occasionally, she could pick out individual rifles in the hellish cacophony of combat.

 

Killip's blazing path led them to dodge and zip between trees, ducking and weaving to avoid enemy fire, but Yang was half-convinced he was trying to kill them.

“Viper!” the man with the hardhat shouted, pointing to what looked like a smaller King Taijitu, but instead of the black and white motifs Yang was familiar with, it was yellow, with purple accents on its shoulder. The creature didn't seem to be affected by the shots that were heading its way, instead lashing out with its tongue to ensnare a soldier – not one from Yang's temporary squad, but still not good, since he screamed the entire way over to the Viper.

 

Killip saw this, urging the squad to shoot the Viper, but instead of standing still to fire, Killip rushed forward. Yang shook her head – didn't he see how thick this fire was? Was he _trying_ to get himself killed? Yang helped him out when she could, firing shots at nearby ADVENT, but Killip only had one task in mind, and that was killing the Viper. He raised his shotgun up as the Viper hissed at him, pulling the trigger once and sending the Viper flying back, dead.

 

“You were _loud and ugly_ and now you're DEAD!” Killip shouted to the Viper. “Amen.”

He still ignored the fact that there were no less than a dozen rifles trained on him now. “What the _hell_ are you doing?” Yang asked, pulling him behind a rock she had taken cover behind. “Get to cover!”

Killip scrambled back to his feet after being dragged off, his face full of barely-concealed rage. “What the _fuck?!_ ” he shouted. “Are you trying for a Section 8, soldier?! You will _not_ turn my _battlefield_ into a _campground!”_

“I just saved your life!” Yang shot back. “You should be grateful you're not dead!”

He scowled, loading a new round into his shotgun. “The only thing I'm grateful for,” he growled, “is that you're not on the _red team._ Keep it that way, cupcake!”

 

Yang, still unsure what the hell he meant by “red team”, watched Killip scrambled out from behind the rock, cheerily blasting away at any alien he saw. She glanced over – Weiss and one of the others, she had heard him referred to as Conagur, were crouched behind their own rock. Had they seen what just happened? Conagur kept firing, readjusting his hardhat as necessary, ignoring them. Weiss shrugged.

 

“Let's _go,_ creampuffs!” Killip shouted, gesturing for them to follow him. He pulled out a horn of some kind, blowing a long tune into it. Where had he even gotten that from? They crossed the road, dodging more alien fire but also watching the aliens steadily fall. This task was nearly impossible. Every time they knocked down one set of troops, another alien ship came in and dropped more off.

“Ah, fuck,” the guy with the hat shouted. “ADVENT mechs! Focus fire on dat thing!”

“Don't fuckin' stop!” Corporal Engberg yelled, firing at the mechs.

Yang raised her shotgun up, aiming it at the mech and firing off a few rounds. But it didn't seem like the mech was even _affected_ by the shots. It just kept advancing, strange robotic beeping emanating from it. Eyes growing wide in fear, Yang felt her shotgun become heavy in her hands, having trouble keeping it up.

 

Before she could try to formulate a new plan of action against this seemingly unstoppable foe, it fell, destroyed by a shot from a rifle far away.

“There it is!” the woman in gray – Hannah, maybe? - shouted, pointing to a strange, triangular sort of beacon, orbiting a strange emission of orange energy which shot out bursts of the same energy occasionally.

“Everyone,” Killip shouted. “Open fire on that target!”

As ordered, the others began to shoot, focusing their fire on the aforementioned beacon. The aliens began shooting too, sending wide, unaimed shots at them in an effort to suppress Yang and her temporary squad. Their efforts came with little success – the beacon was destroyed, and a quick order to retreat followed.

 

Yang turned and ran as fast as she could, her tactical retreat covered by those who had stayed near the _Avenger_. Someone had matched her pace, running with his rifle in one hand in an attempt to go faster. Without warning, he fell, screaming violently as he writhed in pain. Yang paused for a second, trying to decide if she could help. Before she could even move to him, a bright green burst from an alien rifle struck him, killing him instantly. She looked up to see where it had come from, watching the offending alien, a giant brute with reddish-pink skin and clad in green armor, run up to another one of XCOM's soldiers. Once within melee distance, it used the serrated blade on its rifle to slice her chest open, and she unleashed a piercing scream Yang could hear even from where she was.

 

Suddenly, she was turned around, and Weiss was dragging her back to the _Avenger's_ bay. Yang could barely move her own legs anymore, feeling more and more sick to her stomach as the dying screams of soldiers emanated from the battlefield behind her. She couldn't unhear those noises. Every single image, every scream, guttural noise of pain, reminded her of Beacon. Of _that night._

 

Yang fell to her hands and knees as she hit the top of the ramp, her shotgun clattering on the floor beside her. She felt it come up, tried to stop it, but couldn't, and far less than gracefully, Yang vomited on thebay floor. Immediately, Weiss was at her side, picking her up.

“Ugh,” Yang muttered, wiping filth off her face. “I didn't get any in my hair, did I?”

“No,” Weiss replied. “Just… all over the floor.”

Yang looked down at her mess, frowning. “Somehow, I think I would have wanted it in my hair.”

 

Yang heard boots stomping over to them, and glanced at the source. Killip. “Dammit, maggots!” he shouted. “You're not fighters! You're weak _worms!_ Who the hell let you into my squad?”

“Uh,” the woman in gray said. “You did, sir.”

“Oh.” Killip said, deflated. “Regardless! You are formally OUT of my squad!”

“I don't think we wanted to be in it anyway,” Weiss retorted.

 

Killip walked off, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. The woman in gray sighed, her shoulders dropping as she grabbed a bucket and mop, sliding them over to Yang and Weiss. “Here,” she said.

“Thanks,” Yang replied sarcastically. “What'd he call you? Hannah?”

“Ugh, god,” she said, rolling her eyes. “My name's Huang Shuyi. First Sarge can't get my name right, but he never gets _anyone's_ name right. I guess you guys can call me Hannah if you want. Most people do anyway.”

“Do you know why he's like that?” Weiss asked.

 

Hannah shrugged. “No idea. Better get that cleaned up. Holzmann's going to flip if he sees that.”

Yang sighed, grabbing the mop and beginning to clean up her mess. Weiss helped out too, finding a mop and bucket of her own. Yang didn't expect the help, but at the same time, it wasn't exactly out of character for Weiss to have helped. They were in this together, after all. Hannah had walked off long ago, finding someone to talk to and unwinding from the battle.

“You didn't have to help me, you know,” Yang said after they had been cleaning for a few minutes.

“It's what friends do, Yang,” Weiss replied. “I mean, it's not like you _meant_ to do this.”

“I sure as hell didn't want to look like a fucking weakling in front of everyone,” Yang said. “Nobody respects us here.”

 

“These people have been fighting for a long time, Yang,” Weiss reminded her. “They've lost a lot of people.”

“That's not an excuse for what they do. Did you see what I did out there, Weiss? They just sacrifice people now. If these guys are brave, they aren't showing it. I just hear _stories._ I stopped believing in stories a long time ago.”

Yang looked up – it was exactly the wrong time to say that. Captain Price had appeared in front of them, smoking a cigar and looking upon their work. His face bore no clues about what he was thinking, but either way, Yang was feeling like she wanted to puke again. She just couldn't get a break, could she?

 

“Looks clean enough,” he commented. “Xiao Long, come with me. Schnee, if you'd return those to their spot, please.”

Yang swallowed hard, falling in behind Price as he led her away from her only friend. He silently escorted her out of the barracks, and into the hallway just outside of it. Where were they going?

“I'm sorry, sir,” she said. “I shouldn't have said what I did.”

“What?” Price asked. “Doubting the stories of a bunch of old soldiers? I don't blame you. Hell, if I were you, I'd doubt every word that came out of these people's mouths.”

 

He stopped, putting out the cigar as Yang furrowed her brow at him, confused out her mind. What was he talking about? Weren't these people he _respected?_ Hadn't he been working with them for years?

“You're right to be skeptical,” Price said. “Freeman thinks he stopped the alien invasion sixteen years before it happened. Killip's totally lost it. Half the people on this ship are complete sociopaths. If it were 2015, I wouldn't trust any of them as far as I could throw them.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Price said nothing, leading her into a small room.

 

She recognized this – it was a bar. It was only occupied by a handful of souls, with only two looking up to acknowledge their presence. Just one even said anything to Price, a half-hearted “Afternoon, captain”. Past empty chairs and empty tables, Price took Yang to a secluded corner of the room, where the wall was lined with pictures. But these weren't the posters marked with valiant slogans she had seen on the walls of the ship. These were a mixture of framed photographs, professional headshots, and candid photos – taken in happier times, no doubt – haphazardly taped or pinned to the wall. Below some, there were small bronze plaques with names stamped onto them. Someone had gone over a few with a red marker, making large X's on people's faces and writing “DEAD”. Worryingly, a few had been gone over with the same red marker, but instead of marking them as deceased, they were “MIA”.

 

“This here's the Memorial,” Price explained. “Every soldier who's fought and died in XCOM's service is on here.”

“There has to be hundreds of people here,” Yang said despondently.

“Keep in mind, this is the _organized_ resistance. Can't tell you how many civilians have died.”

“Can you tell me about any of them?”

“I thought you stopped believing in stories?”

 

Yang nodded, trying to hold back tears. She hadn't expected to be moved by a bunch of stupid pictures, dammit. “I want to know,” she said.

Price nodded, pointing to a picture of a man, carrying an even larger gun. He looked more like a shaved bear than a person – he was massive, even among people she recognized to be from here. His bald head was shiny, and a stern scowl was plastered on his face. Next to him in the photo was… wait, was that one of the doctors who had examined her? What was his name again?

 

“Mikhail Seryozachev,” Price said, still pointing to the man. “Ludwig and him used to be close. Same squad, stuck next to each other, we even found them at the same time.”

So _that's_ who it was. Ludwig was clearly younger in this picture. He was smiling, not out of malice, but genuine happiness. Or at least, that's what Yang thought it was. He seemed somewhat proud.

“What happened to him?”

“Routine sabotage mission,” Price recounted. “Alien reinforcements came faster than we expected. Mikhail caught a bullet to the leg. He demanded the others evacuate so he could hold them off. Never recovered the body.”

“How horrible,” Yang said quietly. “How… how did Ludwig take it?”

 

“Not well.” Price moved on, pointing to another man. This one had a short mohawk, his picture obviously taken in the middle of combat. He also had a scar on his eye, much like the one Weiss had, and a clear five-o'-clock shadow, seemingly unaffected by the explosion occurring around him.

“This here's Soap,” Price continued. “John MacTavish. He and I were on the front lines against the aliens, then again when they took over. Tough bastard, he was. Soap and I were raiding an alien ship for supplies when one of them hit him square in the chest. He died in my arms after I carried him back to the _Avenger._ ”

Yang's eyes grew wide, and she turned to look at Price. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry, sir-”

 

“Xiao Long, it's fine. Soap's death hit me hard, but we've all lost someone here. I didn't bring you here to share a sob story. You think all we do is sacrifice people? You need to understand this is a war for survival. Nobody's memory is lost here. If we sacrificed people, we wouldn't have this bloody wall.”

Yang nodded, taking a deep breath. “Right, yeah. What about all of these others?”

Price looked back to the wall. “Lot of stories. You sure you want to listen?”

“I'm sure.”

 

Over the next few hours, Price gave her the stories of everyone and anyone she wanted to know about on the memorial wall. Tavish DeGroot, the one-eyed Scottish demoman. Aleksandra Zaryanova, the hero of Russia. Olivia “Sombra” Colomar, who hacked countless alien databases and gave her final moments for one last piece of intel. Lanh Ngo, the Silent Death from Vietnam. Fawziyya Naaji, the Iranian ready to hurl herself into any danger. Jack Morrison, the man who served as the face of XCOM's public endeavors.

 

Every story circled in her head as she was dragged away by Ana, leading her to a secluded hallway off the bar.

“Why do you do this to yourself, child?” Ana demanded, staring her down with a look that could have made even Qrow embarrassed.

“If I die here,” Yang said, beginning to cry even though she much rather wouldn't, “nobody will know what happened to me back home. Ruby… Ruby's going to be looking for me forever, and she can't find me, and -”

“Stop thinking like that,” Ana said sternly. “You are a strong warrior, Yang. You are stronger than the aliens are.”

 

“I can't _help_ it,” Yang sobbed. “Aura can't protect me here. Hearing these stories, seeing the memorial… all those people thought they'd live forever, but I _can't!_ I'm afraid, Ana!”

“Settle down and look at me,” Ana ordered, meeting Yang's eyes. “You cannot let the rules of your world make you afraid _here._ Do you want to know something? Every one of those people was afraid to die. _I_ was afraid to die. Everyone here fears death. This is not a weakness, child. It's what ensures our survival.”

“I guess,” Yang said, finally finding herself able to calm down.

Ana's face softened into a smile, and she patted Yang's shoulders. “That's better. Now, go get some sleep. We have more work to do in the morning.”

 

Yang eventually headed off to bed, finding Weiss once again peacefully asleep. How was she able to manage this? Weiss slipped into their uniforms and regulations like a pair of shoes. Why wasn't Weiss freaking out as much as she was?

 

Maybe sleep would make her feel better. But like the other night, it was wishful thinking. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard the noise of the battlefield again. Machine guns roared in the night, and the sick, disgusting sound of the alien's bayonet ripping through flesh combined with screams of dying men and rifle fire to create a macabre orchestra that was on a constant tour in her mind.

 

Unfortunately, Yang had a season pass with front-row tickets to every show.


	7. Friend of Ours

The training continued. She and Weiss were relentlessly drilled on their tactics and how to keep their weapons prime, the usual she had become accustomed to. By now, her usual attire had been complemented by pouches featuring a pattern made up of a series of small squares, from a place called the United States. She kept much more of her outfit than Weiss did, for reasons unknown even to Yang. It just felt _right,_ and in this instance, that was what mattered.

 

The monotony of training was only broken up by the occasional glimpse into the life she was aiming to get into – helping win the war so she and Weiss could go home. It was on a day where nothing else was to be done that Yang happened to overhear a conversation between the people in Killip's squad, and one of the officers she didn't know the name of. Killip's squad had returned from their mission to the alien “blacksite” just the other day, and had found a vial of some kind. What was in it, nobody knew – Tygan, Ludwig, O'Neill and Carter had immediately whisked it away, refusing to let anyone inside their labs until testing was done.

 

“So, yeah,” Lt. Conagher said, sitting down on his bunk. “Place is massive, right? Like, I mean, bigger than any barn in Texas.”

“Everything's bigger in Texas, Dell, I get it,” the officer said, a black man busy cleaning his machine gun. “D'you forget I lived in Georgia?”

“Hah, nah, I ain't forget, Holzmann. Listen though, I mean it. We spent an hour fighting the garrison there, and that was even _before_ we got inside. They were holdin' on like a tick, lemme tell ya.”

Holzmann nodded, still focused more on cleaning his gun than listening to the conversation. “So, what'd you find in there?”

 

Conagher's smile dropped, and he let out a heavy sigh. “They, uh… the aliens just use that place to… I guess _process_ people is the right word. We kept walking past these huge pods filled with this green plasma, same kind of energy they use in their guns, and I could definitely see people in a few of them.”

“What about the others?”

“Well. Either they were just the last bits of a skull or ribs, or they were halfway gone. I don't know what's in that vial, but I sure as hell hope it was worth it.”

“Guess we'll find out,” Holzmann said flatly.

 

None of it made any sense to Yang. Why were the aliens doing this? What was the point of it? Why do all of this if there wasn't a clear goal to it? Yang figured that, maybe, she'd have more questions than answers, and it was going to be a long while before she got any answers that made sense.

 

Heavy footsteps filled the room. That could only have belonged to First Sergeant Killip. Yang looked to the front of the barracks. He had entered, with Hannah right behind him. Hannah broke off to find Micheal Dudley – the guy she always hung around with in and outside of battle – while Killip prowled the bunks looking for something, or someone. His face was locked in a frown, clearly displeased with _something._

 

“Ying!” he shouted, stopping outside Yang and Weiss's bunk. This must have been what Hannah was talking about, when she said Killip didn't get people's names right. “Get on your feet, soldier, and follow me!”

“Yes, sir,” Yang said, begrudgingly accepting the new name he had given her. Weiss looked at her, confused, and all Yang could do was shrug back in response. Who knew what these people wanted. It seemed like their requirements and duties changed each day. Yang followed Killip out of the barracks, heading to the armory for some obscure reason. She already had her weapon – why was he dragging her here? This didn't make sense.

“Uh, sir,” she asked, cautiously breaching the subject. “If I can ask, why are we here?”

“You may _not_ ask,” he shot back, before whipping around to face her. “But, since you _did,_ I want you to explain to me your actions last week!”

 

Yang blinked, trying to remember what she had done. _Right._ She remembered now – when the _Avenger_ had been downed, and they were repelling the alien assault. When she had pulled him out of incoming fire to cover. “I mean, what's there to explain?” she said. “You were gonna get shot.”

He stared her down, remaining quiet for some time. Ultimately, he cracked a smile, with a wheeze-filled laugh emanating from his mouth. “I always knew you had it in you, Yung,” he said, slapping a massive hand on her shoulder. “God _dammit,_ I'm glad they're making you a Ranger. They ever tell you about that?”

“No,” Yang replied. What was going on? Was she in some sort of fever dream?

 

“Let me ask you something,” Killip said, taking a seat on a nearby stool as he gestured for Yang to do the same. He leaned on his knee, still smiling proudly. “What's the most important thing to you? Besides killing those _red team_ bastards.”

“Uh,” Yang hesitated. “I… I guess getting back home. Seeing my sister again.”

Killip nodded. “You'd do damn near anything to see your sister safe, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Yang said, still wondering what his point was. “I mean, my sister, my family, my friends – if they're not safe, what's even the point? What am I fighting for then?”

“ _That's_ what I like about you, Yong,” Killip said, wagging a finger at her. “You're a go-getter. Well, let me tell you, I'm one of the best Rangers in the world, you know why?”

 

Yang shrugged. “Why?”

“Because I uphold _each and every single code they stand for!_ ” Killip angled his shoulder to her, showing a strip above a small flag on his sleeve that had “Ranger” embroidered on it in gold. “You and I, we're cut from the same cloth. You don't abandon people, you fight until you can't anymore, and _goddammit_ that's to be respected!”

Yang looked at his patch, feeling herself frown and her eyebrows droop. “I mean, do I? I spent a year just… being _nothing_ because I lost my arm. I let my team down when they needed me the most. I let _Ruby_ down when she needed me.”

 

Killip withdrew his shoulder, his smile suddenly fading. He leaned across again, putting his hand on Yang's shoulder. “Listen here, soldier,” he said. “Did you get back up and fight? Did you look in the mirror and tell yourself it was time to _act?_ ”

Yang looked at his eyes – what little she could see of them from underneath his helmet, anyway – and nodded. “I… I don't really know what happened. I was just tired of sitting around for nothing, so I started training with Dad, and then I met back up with Ruby.”

He smiled again, a big toothy grin plastered on his face as he shook Yang's shoulder. “That's _good,_ Yung, real good. You were at your lowest, and you came back anyway! That's not weakness, that's _determination!_ And I'm a sucker for determination!”

 

Yang smiled herself. Somehow, this guy's weird, warped perspective on life was helping. Maybe it was just knowing _somebody_ respected her, instead of cold indifference she got from most of the other people on the _Avenger._

“So,” Yang said, probing to figure out more about Killip's psyche, “you said that you and I are from the same cloth. What do you mean by that?”

“Look at us! Who could deny it?”

Yang _did_ look at the two of them. She was… well, _herself,_ and he was… Killip. She had augmented her usual clothes with some of their own gear, outfitted with a camouflage pattern, but beyond that, she and Killip didn't look anything alike. She wasn't outfitted in blue, for one. It didn't match her aesthetic. She didn't wear a helmet, though maybe she _could_ agree that her hair sometimes covered her eyes like Killip's helmet did for him.

 

Alright, maybe he had a bit of a point.

 

“Who do _you_ protect?” Yang asked. Surely he wouldn't be making all this comparison if it wasn't for a reason, right?

“I protect _this great ship_ from those _red team maggots_ , Ying,” he boasted, puffing out his chest. “If nothing else, remember this – meet your enemies energetically, and defeat them because _you_ are better trained than they are!”

“I am?” Yang asked. It didn't feel like she was trained better than the aliens. If anything, it felt like she was lagging behind.

“You're on this ship, aren't you?” Killip growled. “Surrender isn't a Ranger word, Yong, and if I hear you say it, I will strangle you with your own frilly training bra!”

 

Somebody came up from behind, causing Killip to glance up at them. “ _Sir,”_ he said, his voice full of venom. But for who? Yang turned around to see Captain Rex standing there, frowning.

“First Sergeant,” he said, “what are you doing?”

“Well, you see, _sir,”_ Killip answered. “I was merely informing Yung here of the good news about her upcoming training! And, uh, teaching her a few things, of course.”

“I see,” Captain Rex said, without a hint of emotion in his voice. “Well, carry on, I suppose.”

“Yeah...” Killip muttered, almost so quietly Yang didn't hear him.

 

Captain Rex looked at Killip oddly, but said nothing as he walked away. Yang wasn't sure why Killip didn't like Captain Rex, nor was she inclined to ask _why._ Right now, it seemed like the kind of thing you _didn't_ ask about. Somebody made a call that dinner was being served. Time to reunite with Weiss.

 

All things considered, today wasn't all bad. She had gotten a new friend, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

A reprieve from training had been allowed, if only for more work. By order of the Commander, Yang and Weiss would now have a formal squad. She wasn't sure if it was because they had finally run out of things to train them on, or if they were finally seeing them as equals. For her part, Yang hoped it was the latter.

 

Then again, maybe it was a pipe dream. Captain Rex had watched them come into the briefing room, his eyebrow cocked up in cautious curiosity. Alan muttered something under his breath, and Freeman openly wondered “what the fuck the kids were doing here”. General O'Neill had accompanied them in, gesturing to the two as they were presented to their new squad. “Captain Rex,” he said, “say hello to your two newest members, Weiss Schnee and Yang Xiao Long.”

“Whose orders?” Captain Rex asked. “I didn't request any new members for Menace 1-5.”

“Commander Okorie's,” O'Neill replied.

“General, I have to protest -”

O'Neill shrugged. “Take it up with the Commander.”

 

Just as quickly as he had brought them in, General O'Neill left, abandoning them with the watchful eyes of the squad on them. Ludwig in particular glowered at them, probably still seething from his less-than-pleasant encounter with Yang a month ago.

“Well, I suppose _someone_ had to get the shinies,” Captain Rex said, tapping together a few papers. “Alright ladies, take a seat.”

“Pikers,” Alan muttered as they walked past him.

“Alright, settle down, Sergeant,” Captain Rex said. “Ladies and gentlemen, these orders come to us straight from the Commander. Guess she wanted the shinies on mission with us too. New signal, first one we've come across in months. Intel's saying it's like the ones that brought… oh jeez, the _shinies_ to us.”

 

“Great,” Freeman complained. “More weird kids. Can I just sit this one out? I don't wanna go anywhere.”

“No, you may _not.”_ Captain Rex said. “We're heading to Greece. No intel on the ground, so here's how we'll play this. Sergeant Mundy, I want you to find a rooftop to get on, get good sightlines and observe.”

“Gotcha,” Alan said, nodding sharply.

“Corporal, shinies, I want you forward to scout. Lieutenant, you're sticking close to me.”

Ludwig said nothing, only taking a note. Freeman groaned. “I hate being up front,” he complained. “I'm always first to get shot at.”

“Then maybe you should get better at shooting _back,_ Corporal,” Rex said. “We're leaving in five minutes. Dismissed.”

 

* * *

 

 

Greece reminded Yang almost of Mistral, with its multiple small buildings and colorful roofs. The area looked somewhat serene, but the walls, scarred by alien rifle fire, told the tale of a city torn apart by conflict. They landed not much worse for wear, with Alan heading off to find a suitable sniping position. As expected, Freeman led the way. He much preferred not to, though, and did his best to try to get Yang or Weiss to be ahead of him.

 

“Captain,” Alan reported a few minutes later. “All set up here. Scope's clear.”

“Understood. Keep watch, let us know if you see anything.”

Together, the squad moved down narrow streets of cobblestone, passing by abandoned buildings and old, rusted-out cars. Well off into the distance, weapons fire echoed and bounced off the white walls that surrounded them. Alan reported he could see shots emanating from the city center, but had no clue how far away they were. Captain Rex ordered him closer, and them to double time. They needed to find higher ground, and fast.

 

The squad crested a hill, and from it Yang could clearly see the red-streaked alien rifle shots flying out into the air. Alan, apparently having already moved to a better position, reported he could get a better look on the situation. For those on the ground, they could only keep moving forward. Before they could start moving down the road, Captain Rex had them pause. A squad of enemy soldiers ran by them, unaware of their presence entirely.

 

“Captain,” Alan reported. “You're not much gonna like this.”

“Report, Mundy,” Rex said. “What is it?”

“I've got eyes on that big battle. Looks like a single fighter against ADVENT down there.”

Captain Rex paused, before clicking his radio back on. “Sorry, say that again Sergeant, because I could have _sworn_ -”

“Yeah,” Alan groaned. “I know what I said. I dunno what to tell ya, Captain.”

“Goddammit,” Freeman said. “I knew I shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning.”

 

Captain Rex muttered something, ordering them to move out with Freeman leading the way again. So far, ADVENT was ignoring them entirely, and as they got closer to the epicenter of combat, the noises just grew louder. Up until Yang, Weiss and Freeman fired the first shots, ADVENT had no idea they were behind them. It seemed the aliens were just as tired of these intrusions as XCOM was, as they had called up on the beasts Yang had seen the last time she met them in battle.

 

Immediately, though, the aliens turned around and began to focus on them, though their response was somewhat slow. They seemed to be more focused on whoever they were trying to kill, with reactions to them lacking. Yang took cover as a group of aliens turned around, shouting in their strange language as they moved to tactical positions. One of the green ones, what was it, a Muton? The Muton roared, charging for Yang as she brought up her shotgun. One, two, three squeezes of the trigger and it was dead, sliding on the ground as the momentum carried it past her. Short bursts from Weiss's rifle mixed with Freeman's sub-machine gun.

 

“FUCK!” Freeman shouted, reloading. “Over here! You forgot your bullets! Take some of mine!”

“Focus fire on that Priest!” Captain Rex called out, firing off two pistols he had at the aforementioned foe.

The Priest itself stood tall, directing other soldiers in battle and generally sticking out. Ludwig fired several shots at it, his rounds pinging off of the alien's armor as the black-clad grunts moved forward. Far-away shots from Alan's rifle rung out, nailing ADVENT officers and Vipers alike. Yang's shotgun blew away the Priest, and he crumpled over, dead. Or so it looked – Yang knew well that they were able to rise back from fatal shots, a trait nobody in XCOM quite understood.

 

Even with their Priests resurrecting themselves for one more fight, the hordes of ADVENT began to thin. Yang still had no idea who this person they were rescuing was, since her mind was focused too much on fighting the enemy to look at them. The last few aliens fell, and Yang dropped another empty magazine.

 

“Cease fire!” Captain Rex called. “Cease fire!”

“Vhere is ADVENT's enemy?” Ludwig asked, looking around.

“Hey hey hey!” Freeman yelled. “Hands! Let me see hands! That's how this works, right?!”

Yang and Weiss both turned at the same time to see Freeman pointing his gun at a half-destroyed pillar.

“I'm sorry,” a familiar voice said.

 

 _No,_ Yang thought. _It can't possibly be…_

 

Pyrrha stepped out from behind the pillar, her weapons in hand as she walked into view. She looked just like she had before she died. Like Yang remembered her. Yang and Weiss both lowered their weapons, stepping closer to her.

“Pyrrha?!” Yang shouted. Pyrrha saw her and Weiss, and smiled.

“What the _fuck?!_ ” Freeman asked. “You know this one too?!”

“Shinies,” Rex said, keeping his pistols leveled at Pyrrha. “You're going to have to explain this one to me.”

 

Yang stepped to just a few feet away from Pyrrha, trying to figure out how this was even _possible._ “Pyrrha, you _died._ What happened? Why did you stay in that tower and fight?” Pyrrha began to explain, but couldn't get any words out before Yang punched her in the chest out of anger. “Why did you _leave_ us?!” Yang demanded, her voice cracking.

“I…” Pyrrha said, pausing as she looked Yang in the eyes. “Yes, I… _did_ die. I thought… if I stayed behind, I could give you all a chance to get to safety. I hope it worked.” 

“No,” Yang said, feeling her cheeks heat up. “It _didn't._ Ruby and Weiss went after you, Pyrrha. My dumbass sister _risked her life_ to try and save _you!”_ Yang took a deep breath, shutting her eyes as she tried – and failed – to calm herself. “Beacon was falling no matter what you did.” 

 

“Ruby…” Pyrrha said, as if her name was a long-lost memory. “I didn't know, Yang. I'm sorry. So, then I failed. You all died because I made a mistake.”

Yang shook her head, still trying to keep her anger in check. She hated this about herself. _"We're_ not dead, Pyrrha. I… we fucking moved on. I don't know why we're _here._ Why are _you_ here? _When_ did you get here?” 

“I don't know, truthfully. I… I felt myself dying when Cinder killed me. It was cold, but… peaceful for a while. I don't know how long it was cold and quiet, not until I saw these Grimm trying to take my weapons from me. They tried to _talk_ to me.” 

“Why'd you start fighting them?” Captain Rex asked.

“I saw the evil they did,” Pyrrha answered. “I thought maybe if I had failed at Beacon, this was the universe giving me another opportunity to right my wrongs.”

 

Yang shook her head again, exhaling deeply. Pyrrha didn't _get it._ “You don't know anything. What a joke.” She walked away before she got too angry to start throwing punches, and ripped off her earpiece. Not even Weiss would be able to convince her to stay, and that was fine. Yang just needed to be alone, seeking refuge in a quiet corner away from the squad. She rested her head against a white-walled building, with blue trim that sat across a few other buildings just like it. Potted plants dotted the walls, with old wooden benches randomly scattered about. 

 

How dare Pyrrha. How dare she do something so stupid, so reckless. Didn't Pyrrha think Ruby would follow her? Would risk everything to help her? She had to have known, Yang decided. Pyrrha knew and she didn't care. _Everyone_ knew Ruby acted first and thought later. At least, she _thought_ everyone did. Yang could hear them interrogating Pyrrha. Good. Maybe then she would realize how fucking stupid she had been, standing and dying on top of that tower. 

 

Yang though 

“Go away,” Yang said, burying her head in her hands.

“Gonna have to try harder than that, kid,” Alan said, lighting a cigarette and sitting down on a bench opposite of her.

“No, really, go away. I don't want to talk to anyone.”

“Then _don't_ talk, I don't care.” he said, shrugging as he puffed on his cigarette. “You sounded pretty angry with her.” 

“I _said_ I don't want to talk.” 

 

“I heard you the first time, and I told you I don't care if you do.” Exhaling some smoke, Alan tapped away the ashes on his cigarette onto the ground. “I used to know this dumbass. He and I were squadmates from way back, signed up for the Army first chance he got. Idiot didn't even wait for Nasho." 

 

Alan paused, taking a drag off his cigarette. He looked almost as if he was trying to judge Yang's reaction, but she wasn't intending to give him one. If he wanted to talk about something, he should get to the point. 

 

“Anyway, he rolled into our tiny little Outback town in his fancy fuckin' dress uniform, got out of the car, and fuckin' faceplants right into a giant mudpit. That should tell you everything you need to know about his _exemplary_ military service.” 

“What do you mean?” Yang asked.

“He was a fucking drongo, is what he was,” Alan said, knocking off ashes. “Look, long story short, he and I were doing about what we were now, fighting aliens. Difference was, _we_ were the ones fighting as conventionals, not this guerrilla war we got going on now. Now, dumbass reckons he's got a leg up on the aliens, thinks he's smarter then them. 

 

“So,” Alan continued, leaning back slightly in the bench. “One day, aliens pop up in Sydney. Sent in a full shock trooper kind of deal. My unit, squad with dumbass in it, we're told to hold the evac bridge at all costs. Last civvie goes over the bridge, he tells us to go with him, says he got bombs planted so the aliens couldn't follow us. Just had to set the timers and run, yanno?”

 

Yang _didn't_ know, really. She couldn't see a point to this story. Sighing, she buried her head in her hands again, just listening as Alan talked. He seemed content to just keep going anyway. 

“Well, wouldn't you fuckin' know it,” Alan said, “I had gone and made friends with this idiot. So I'm standing there as everyone else is trying to get the hell out of dodge, trying to get this fuckin' cane toad to come with us. And this moron is just sitting there going 'keep going, I got it covered,' so I get out.”

“And him?” Yang asked.

 

Alan sighed, shaking his head as he swallowed hard. “Like a lot of things he did, he fucked up his bomb job. We figure he meant to set the timer for five minutes, must've set it to fifty seconds or something dumb. We heard him fighting on our radio, said he was about to get out, then the whole bridge goes with him still on it.”

His words hung in the air as he kept smoking, and eventually Yang figured out he had just _ended_ it there. What the fuck? 

“Why the hell did you tell me that?” Yang asked, right back to being angry.

“People do dumb things when they think they're helping their friends and family. Fuck if I know what you two were on about, but your sister, this nutter? They thought they were helping _you._ Don't get pissy at people because they think they're doing the right thing.” 

 

“Your _idiot friend_ knowingly sacrificed himself,” Yang countered. “Pyrrha was being selfish. She _knew_ Ruby would go after her.” 

“One,” Alan said, gesturing to her with the cigarette as he raised a skeptical eyebrow. “No he didn't. And two, you sure about that? Dumbass wouldn't have blown the bridge early because he wanted drama. He blew it early because he was a fuckin' doughnut. Your friend Pyrite or whatever, she didn't die on that stupid tower because she wanted to take your sister with her.” 

“You weren't there!” Yang yelled, trying her hardest to not burst into tears, thinking about that night.

“And you weren't in Sydney on that bridge,” Alan shot back, oddly calm considering the charged emotions both of them were having. “So don't be a knocker, mate, makes everyone look bad.”

 

Yang sighed, folding her arms as she fumed. Maybe if she got angry enough, she couldn't cry. That'd be nice.

“Like I said, kid,” Alan finally said after a few minutes. “People are fuckin' dumb when they think they're doing the right thing.”

Yang likewise took a few minutes to collect her words. “I guess I can accept that.”

“Fine by me,” Alan said, standing up and stomping the cigarette out. “I'm gonna go tell the Captain I gave ya a real gobful. Gotta keep up my reputation of being a hardarse.”

 

Yang continued to sit and fume, but came to the slow – and angry – realization that Alan was right. Not that she'd ever tell him to his face. Neither was she about to forgive Pyrrha. Ruby almost _died_ because of what Pyrrha did. Why should she forgive her now? Yang didn't see a reason to. 

 

“Hey, shiny,” Captain Rex said, standing over her with his pistols now holstered. “Get on your feet. We're heading to our ride out of here.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. _Angry-sit-in-the-corner_ time must have been over. 

“One more thing, shiny,” Rex said, leaning in close so only they could hear. “You and I are having a little _discussion_ when we get back to the Avenger.” 

Yang gulped. Were these words out of malice, or had she done something right? Was it about Pyrrha? She'd have no way to know until they got back, a perfect amount of time to stew over it and run through every possible idea twenty times.

 

Yang and Captain Rex rejoined the squad, with Rex and Ludwig taking the lead in their path to the evac. Weiss and Yang lagged behind slightly, watching the rear. Alan and Freeman providing security for Pyrrha, the former keeping his pistol held tight to the small of her back.

“Yang,” Weiss said quietly, “what was that? Where did you go?”

“I don't really want to talk about it, Weiss,” Yang said.

“You don't get to explode on someone like that and then pretend it didn't happen,” Weiss lectured.

 _"Weiss,”_ Yang warned. “I said I don't want to talk about it. Just… lay off, alright?” 

Weiss huffed, hurrying her pace to get closer to Alan and Freeman. Great, now even _Weiss_ was mad at her. What else could go wrong today? 

 

By the time they had stepped onto the Skyranger, Pyrrha had already been securely strapped to one of the seats. Yang stood away from the squad, nearer to the pilots as she gripped a brown strap of leather that hung from the Skyranger's ceiling. She stared out the window, hoping _something_ interesting would pass by on their way back. Anything to avoid looking at the squad again. 

 

“Yang,” Pyrrha pleaded, though her voice couldn't get Yang to turn to her. “You can tell them I'm not dangerous. I don't need these restraints on me.”

Yang heard the sound of the straps and belts that held Pyrrha against the seat jingling together, followed up by a solid _thwump._ That must have been either Alan or Freeman forcing her to sit back. 

“Yang, please,” Pyrrha said, sounding like she was about to start crying. “What did I do wrong?”

“Oi,” Alan said harshly. “Stop yabberin'. I don't wanna hear another word outta yer mouth, Shiela.”

Yang sighed, feeling the eyes of the whole squad on her. This entire day was just _fucked._

 

Yang couldn't help but feel she had brought it on herself.


	8. Firebrand and Angel

Yang was first off the Skyranger, barely conscious of those who were gathering nearby to see what the ruckus over Pyrrha was about. In a cloudy, rage-filled haze she headed to her bunk, tossing her shotgun on it in preparation to clean it. She also began ripping off her various pouches and bags that held ammo, lazily dropping them to the side. Before she knew it, Captain Rex was standing in front of her, across the bunk. 

 

“Private Xiao Long,” he said, “secure your weapon and come with me.”

Yang sighed, taking the magazine out and racking the bolt to clear the loaded round. “Respectfully, sir,” she said as she put down the shotgun. “Can it wait?”

“No. I insist, Private.”

She just now noticed he was using her name, and not calling her “shiny”. What was the game here? Yang had only been in the squad for one mission, but she had been “shiny” to him since she first got on this ship. _Whatever._ Maybe it was only temporary. Resigning herself to another verbal assault, Yang put her shotgun away, falling in behind Captain Rex. 

 

They headed to the bar, empty at this time of day. Why were they here?

“Sir, what's going on?” Yang asked. Captain Rex refused to answer, only taking a seat across from her and gesturing for her to sit down as well. She sighed, trying to avoid his intense, unrelenting gaze.

“Private Xiao Long,” he began, folding his hands on the table. “I thought I put you on notice when I first saw you on this ship.”

“You did, sir,” Yang said, staring at the floor.

 _"Look at me when I talk to you,"_ Captain Rex warned. Once she had met his eyes, he sighed. “I'm disappointed, Private… but, I'm also impressed, because _you_ are not a shiny anymore.” 

 

Yang furrowed her brow, blinking several times in confusion. “I'm… not?”

“No. I watched you fight with a ferocity I haven't seen in a long time. What you did on that battlefield was nothing short of exemplary today. For that, you and Private Schnee both have proven yourselves in my eyes.”

She blinked again, the gravity of his words hitting her. “Thank you, sir,” she finally said, feeling a slight smile cross her face. It wasn't often she got praised for something. 

“I do have _other_ concerns, though,” Captain Rex said. “This new arrival, Nikos, you have history with her, correct?” 

 

Immediately, Yang's smile dropped, and she swallowed hard. “I do, sir.”

“Alright, then. Explain it to me. Why did you feel fit to chew her out and then run off?”

Yang sighed. She really didn't want to go through Beacon's fall again, but… well, she had no real choice here, did she?

“She thought that trying to stop whoever it was that ruined our lives would help us,” Yang said, shifting uneasily in her chair. “That we'd be able to get out safe. Our team got split up because of _her._ My sister and Weiss ran off to help her, and… all I saw was my friend Blake run off to do who-knows what, and when I found _her,_ she was about to be killed.” 

 

Yang looked up, trying to gauge Captain Rex's reaction, but he just sat there stoically, nodding for Yang to continue.

“I lost my arm trying to save my friend, and Pyrra… _died_ on that damn tower. Ruby almost died with her. I spent _hours_ wondering if my sister was okay. All I knew was that the tower blew up, my sister was up there, and everything I knew was falling apart.” 

“Stop me if I have this wrong,” Captain Rex said, holding up a hand. “You blame Nikos for all the problems you've had since losing your arm.”

“No,” Yang explained. “She _caused_ them. Ruby wouldn't have risked herself if Pyrrha wasn't up there fighting. Blake and I wouldn't have had to fight Adam alone if we weren't looking for Weiss and Ruby. I wouldn't have lost my _arm_ if I had them with me.” 

 

Captain Rex leaned forward, still staring deeply into her eyes. “Private, from what I understand, you ladies were fighting a war of your own back home. This Nikos did what she thought would _end_ that war.” 

“She didn't _know_ that! We didn't know it was a war then!” 

“I don't believe that,” Captain Rex countered. _"All_ soldiers know when a war starts. You may not have known it consciously, but I think you did on the inside. I think Miss Nikos did too.” 

Yang's brow furrowed. “So that makes it _okay_ for her to risk her own life and my friends, my _sister's?"_

 

“I didn't say that,” Captain Rex said. “What Miss Nikos did was reckless, yes. _However,_ you can _not_ form a team if you distrust one another, or keep anger in your hearts. Conflict belongs on the _battlefield,_ not in the squad. Teams, squads, companies, all need to keep each other in check and in mind.” 

Yang stood up like a rocket, her chair squeaking back as she knocked it away. “If this is another crap speech about 'not judging others' like Alan gave me, I'm _out of here._ I'm _not_ forgiving her for what she did, and nobody's going to tell me I have to!” 

“Private, I don't know what Sergeant Mundy said to you,” Rex said, switching to a clearly authoritarian tone. “So _sit back down._ You're not dismissed yet.” 

 

Yang and Captain Rex stared at each other, equally unwilling to yield. _Fuck,_ she had no choice here. She couldn't get home without them, and he knew it. He had all the cards. Yang groaned, sitting back down with her arms crossed, making sure he knew she was pissed off. 

“Nobody's asking you to forgive her, Private. I'm _telling_ you that you can't treat her like she doesn't exist. You're all going to be living on the same ship for a while, and if somebody in our squad is wounded, she's in line to be their replacement. I am _not_ going to jeopardize a mission because you can't keep your feelings in check.” 

“Sir, I -”

 _"Stop talking._ Either you find a way to work with Miss Nikos if she begins training, or I make sure you're not a detriment to any missions she's on. That is your choice, soldier. I would make it soon.” Having made his point, Rex stood up and swiftly left, leaving Yang alone in the bar with her thoughts. She sat in the chair long after he had left, processing what he had heard. 

 

Dammit.

 

Dammit, dammit, _dammit, dammit._ Bolting out of her seat, Yang grabbed the table and threw it on its side, sending it crashing across the room and taking a few chairs and tables with it. Further incensed, she kicked away a chair that had offended her, hearing glass shatter as it made contact with another table. Knowing she had simultaneously impressed and disappointed Captain Rex made her mini-rampage burn even brighter as she took out her anger on innocent pieces of furniture.

 

“What did the bar ever do to you, child?” 

Yang turned around, seeing Ana behind her, carrying a tray with a teapot and two cups on it, the tea still hot judging by the steam coming out of the spout. Ana frowned at her as she brought the tea in, setting it on the bartop, the only unmolested corner of the room left standing at this point. She lightly tapped one of the stools, a seat Yang took with some reluctance, and handed Yang a cup of tea after asking her how much sugar she liked in it. 

“Alright, child,” Ana said, sipping her tea. “Something has been bothering you since you got on this ship. What is it?”

 

Yang sighed, having _just_ gone over this with Captain Rex. “Do you often just bring tea to people when they need it?” 

Ana chuckled. “No, this was meant for Major Carter, but I don't think she'll mind I gave you some. Now, answer me.”

 _God,_ she was insistent, wasn't she? Once again, Yang relayed the story of the fall of Beacon, confessing her fears and worries to Ana that she would die here and Ruby would never know what happened. That Pyrrha had risked herself and nearly gotten Ruby killed for a goal Yang never understood. Throughout it all, Ana just sat there, sipping her tea and listening. 

 

“Well, child, if you don't mind, I would like to share something with you. I know you've seen that wall,” she gestured to the Memorial with her free hand. “Do they still have Jack's photo on it?” 

“I don't remember a Jack,” Yang said.

“Jack Morrison was Overwatch's commander, a great man. He was a natural for it, the sort of man everyone looked up to and wanted to be like. My daughter Fareeha was one of them.”

Yang sipped her tea, blinking. “I didn't know you had a daughter.”

 

“That's the key, there. _Had.”_ Unusually, Ana avoided Yang's eyes, looking to the floor. “She wanted very much to join Overwatch, but I was against it. She didn't know what she was getting herself into. She thought it would be something else, but I knew the truth. We had many arguments about it, and right before she left Cairo to join, she said she didn't care to see me anymore.” 

Yang cringed. She knew full well what it was like to say something like that to someone, especially if that person happened to be your own mother. “I'm so sorry, Ana.”

“She died in Romania alongside Jack, doing what she loved. She saw justice delivered, helping those who couldn't help themselves. In a way, her service in Overwatch was what she wanted. She wanted to help, and help she did.”

 

“I can't even imagine it,” Yang said, her tea having grown cold and unappealing.

“My point, child, is that helping others comes with a sacrifice. You have made yours. Your friend Pyrrha knew what she was doing. Ruby knew what she was doing. _You_ know what you're doing. Don't fear what your sacrifice brings. If you weren't willing to take that on, you wouldn't be here, Yang.” 

Yang nodded, and eventually, Ana took her tea with her, off to brew another pot for Major Carter. Alone again, Yang stepped into the middle of the destroyed bar, looking over her destruction again.

 

What a great way to cap off a terrible day.

 

* * *

 

 

Pyrrha was somewhat used to the attention she was getting – after all, she _had_ been the star of Sanctum Academy and the Mistral Regional Champion four times over. Still, she couldn't help but feel this attention wasn't what she wanted. An older man, who had been introduced to her as General O'Neill, puzzled over a clipboard as his companion, Major Carter, interrogated Pyrrha. Off to the side stood a Captain Price, who regarded the entire situation more with passing curiosity than the scientific interest the General and Major had. 

 

“This just doesn't make sense,” General O'Neill muttered. “How can _three_ people come from the same world and not one of them arrives at the same time?” 

“I think if we knew that, we wouldn't be sitting here asking questions,” Major Carter said. “Well, she seems stable enough, Price. I'd say we could use someone with her skills.” Still comparing notes, Major Carter and General O'Neill left, leaving her alone with Price.

“Right,” Price said. “Nikos, is it? Heard you and Xiao Long had a bit of a spat in Athens.”

Pyrrha looked up, since this was the first time anyone other than Major Carter had spoken to her directly. “Was that where I was? How… how is Yang doing?”

 

Price scoffed. “I know _I'm_ not going near her, that's for sure.” 

“May I ask what Major Carter meant?”

Price glanced up for a second, lighting a cigar. “Schnee talked about you. Told us you were one hell of a fighter. You've been fighting ADVENT on your own for months, according to the Greeks. Want to let me know how you managed to do that without a rifle?” 

“Well, I usually have one. Miló I could change into a rifle configuration, but… I don't know, something's wrong.”

 

“Dust doesn't work here,” Price said immediately. “No, we don't know why. Keep going.” 

Pyrrha tilted her head. How… how could they know? Did they have Dust here? Weiss said on the way back here they didn't. But if they knew about it and knew it didn't work, then… this was all too confusing. Pyrrha decided to save it for another day, perhaps.

“I don't know. I just did what came naturally, I suppose. People needed my help, even if I couldn't understand them. I understood their situation.”

 

“Noble of you,” Price said. “So, you've met ADVENT head-on, then. Want to get in on the real action?”

“I don't believe I understand.”

“We can teach you to fight like we did with Schnee and Xiao Long, give you a proper weapon. You can help us get ADVENT off Earth even faster than you were doing it in Greece.”

Pyrrha gasped slightly, fully aware of what he was saying. “You would have me fight?” she asked, shocked. “But… why?”

“Like I said, you come highly recommended. You want to help people? That's what we do. I'm sure you've heard ADVENT's propaganda. They only want the resources.”

 

She remembered this. The posters and broadcasts they sent out, talking about people called the Elders and of their benevolence toward humanity. Most jeered at them, but Pyrrha could see people who were enamored by it.

“How long have they been here?” Pyrrha asked.

“Twenty years. They're draining the waters, mining everything in sight. The actual people aren't worth a damn thing to them.”

“How can they do that? Why aren't the people fighting?”

“They are, but without organization, leaders, it's not worth anything. ADVENT crushes them in days, if they're lucky to last that long.”

 

The more Price talked, the more this entire situation reminded her of Remnant, and what Ozpin said to her. Why he wanted her to become the Fall Maiden to begin with. “You provide that leadership,” Pyrrha said, connecting the dots. “A beacon for them to follow.”

Price nodded, knocking ashes off his cigar.

“Alright,” she said, determined. “I'll join you.” 

“Good. We'll get you sorted tomorrow. Captain Rex wanted to see you before anything else happened.”

Pyrrha tilted her head to the side, not recognizing the name. “Who is Captain Rex?”

 

Price looked surprised. “Captain Rex and his squad recovered you today. He's over there, at his bunk.”

He pointed to Captain Rex, and the pieces began to fall into place for her. Yang, Weiss, they were both in his squad. Was he asking to see her because he wanted her on his team? She thanked Captain Price, heading over to see Rex. Yang wasn't here. Where had she gone?

“Captain Rex,” Pyrrha said as she neared him. “I was told you wanted to see me?”

“That's right,” he said, getting off his bunk. “Follow me.”

 

Pyrrha nodded, and the Captain took her to a room that looked like a tornado hit it. Broken pieces of glass were everywhere, alongside piles of salt and pepper, chunks of tables and chairs, and ripped pieces of upholstery. In the middle of it all stood Yang, unflinching.

“Private Xiao Long,” Captain Rex said as he entered. “You'll have to fix this when we're done here, but I'll ignore it for now.”

“Thank you, sir,” Yang said deadpan.

Captain Rex grabbed one of the few remaining chairs for Yang and Pyrrha, gesturing for them to sit down. Pyrrha slid easily into the chair, but Yang moved like a robot into hers, clearly still trying to contain her rage. Once they had both taken a seat, Captain Rex stood in between them, his hands clasped behind his back.

 

“I've thought about your little predicament more, ladies. Private Xiao Long, while my previous words still stand, you _and_ Miss Nikos need to recognize you're both being stupid.” 

“Yes, sir,” Yang said, staring at the floor. Pyrrha could only nod, unsure how to act around him.

“Miss Nikos,” he continued. “If you were one of my soldiers and you tried the same stunt you pulled at Beacon, I would have you court-martialed even if I had to try just your weapon.”

“Captain, I-”

 _"Don't_ interrupt me, Miss Nikos. I'll overlook it for now, but don't let it happen again. Your actions were irresponsible and dangerous. You put not just your own life at stake, you risked the lives of others. That will _not_ be tolerated here. _We. Don't. Need. Heroes._ We need _soldiers_ to carry weapons to fight the aliens.” 

 

He sighed, turning to Yang. “Private Xiao Long, your anger was once justified. It is _not_ any longer. Nobody here can turn back the clock on that day, but you have to recognize that you cannot pin all the blame on Miss Nikos for those events. It's unfair to _her,_ it's unfair to _you,_ and it dishonors everyone you fought with on that day.” 

 

Swallowing and stepping back, Captain Rex took a moment to look at both of them. “Now, I expect there'll be no more _problems_ between the two of you. If I hear of it, I won't be so kind next time.” Captain Rex headed out, reminding Yang to return the room to its natural order as he did so. Silently, Yang got out of the chair to start putting chairs and tables back upright, still burning holes in the ground. 

 

“Do you want me to help, Yang?” Pyrrha asked, so quietly she almost didn't hear herself. At this point, she'd do _anything_ to have her friend back if only for a moment. 

“Yeah,” Yang replied, just as meekly. “Thanks.”

Following Yang's lead, Pyrrha began setting tables up and retrieved a broom to sweep up broken glass. Trying to recover and fix the broken pieces of furniture was a bit more difficult, but it beat just leaving them on the floor.

 

“He's right, you know,” Yang said after half an hour of silence.

“I wish I could have seen what my actions were going to do,” Pyrrha said. “Maybe I wouldn't have died on that tower.”

Yang remained quiet for a few minutes. “Yeah. Maybe. I just want to be back home.”

“If I could go back to that day, I would,” Pyrrha said, setting the broom aside to transfer the broken glass to a trashcan. 

 

“Didn't you hear the Captain?” Yang asked, hollow. “Nobody can turn back the clock.”

Pyrrha felt her eyes well up. She couldn't stand this. Pyrrha had no idea Yang was so upset with her. How her heart was aching for her friend, and with no way to understand how to help. “How can I make this up to you, Yang?”

Yang slammed down a chair, slowly looking up at her with sad eyes. This was the first time Yang had even _looked_ at her since Athens. “Let's just… not talk about it, alright? Can we do that?” 

 

Pyrrha took a deep breath, nodding. “Of course. I won't mention it again.”

Across from her, Yang closed her eyes, and her shoulders visibly relaxed. “Thanks, Pyrrha.”

 

Their job now done, Yang and Pyrrha left the bar. Yang decided it was a good idea for a nap, heading to her bunk. As for Pyrrha, she found out Captain Rex had arranged for her to have a bunk directly opposite of his, perhaps to keep an an eye on her and Yang. Hopefully, all was well now between them.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, she was introduced to Sergeant Alan Mundy and Corporal Loki Engberg. According to Engberg, she would be Pyrrha's resource for tactics and drill, while Alan would be her guide to long-range marksmanship. The training proved difficult, as she'd expected, but she didn't expect to have Alan take a special interest in her shooting. Every morning, he would be at the shooting range with her, a cup of coffee in his hands. With every shot, he gave advice, taught her the proper form, and praised her for nice shooting. Unlike Corporal Engberg, Alan actually cared and pushed her to strive for better results. Yang and Weiss had warned her that the training would take at least a week, if not longer, with extended periods needed if they judged by their opaque standards that she wasn't up to snuff. 

 

It didn't take long for her to pick up on it, though. The days passed quickly with not much else to work on, doubly so when the passage of time was almost impossible to track. It surprised her, then, when not only had Alan called her one of the best snipers XCOM had, First Sergeant Killip also hand-picked her for a mission. She hadn't received much in the way of orders, just to appear in the briefing room with her weapon and kit. 

 

That was how she'd found herself here, her Dragunov resting against her leg as First Sergeant Killip stood at the front of the room, his helmet still covering his eyes. Behind him was a picture of an olive-skinned man, clad in some sort of white coverall with a green stripe on the left shoulder, his hair cut short and neatly. 

“This, men,” Killip said, gesturing to the photo with a bronze-colored rod, “is Joseph Gutterra. He is a _traitor_ to everything we stand for, and for that, we are going to go to Canada to capture his sorry ass and bring him back here so we can interrogate the everloving _hell_ out of him!” 

Pyrrha glanced down at the dossier she had been handed, noting the man's name was actually Josepe Gutiérrez. She heard the First Sergeant did not often get people's names right, but she didn't think it was nearly this bad.

“NOW!” he shouted, bringing the rod to his open palm. “Niklas here is on a temporary assignment with our squad, so _don't get used to it, twinkletoes!_ Be ready _at the Skyranger_ in five minutes!” 

 

First Sergeant Killip ended the briefing with that, packing away his folder and giving them an exaggerated salute. The other members of the squad began to stir, grabbing their weapons or starting to smoke. In the short time she had been on the _Avenger,_ she knew most of them – Engberg, for one. Hannah. Their Lieutenant was a short man called Conagher. There was a fast-talking guy named Dudley who was apparently a sergeant. 

 

Pyrrha did not need much time to gather her things – most of her gear she had on her anyway in the briefing room – and waited at the Skyranger, watching the rest of the squad arrive. Pyrrha could not help but notice the eclectic mix of weapons in the squad. Even when Dust allowed for serious customization to suit a warrior's needs, all the different rifles just seemed to be a headache. Doubly so when Pyrrha learned they didn't use Dust, but something called Gunpowder. The bullets didn't seem too different from Dust, but as she had learned not everything was as it seemed.

 

“Alright men,” Killip shouted as he got near them. “I hope you all remember what's needed from you! I expect the best, goddammit, and if I don't get the best then _heads will roll!"_

“You got it, First Sarge,” Lt. Conagher said, resting his rifle on his shoulder. “Let's move 'em out!” 

Heading onto the Skyranger, Pyrrha felt her chest tighten in nervous anticipation. Even though she had fought the aliens before, with a weapon only good for bludgeoning them, she could not help but feel that the first real mission with her new rifle and a new team would end in disaster. As they settled in and buckled seatbelts, the engines started up and away they went. 

 

Maybe she was just overthinking it.


	9. Chase This Light

The Skyranger touched down on a city covered in white buildings, with gray and white titles covering a plaza. Lush green planters were scattered about, with streetlights strewn about strategically. Pristine white benches provided nice places to sit. The road near the plaza itself had some potholes, but otherwise was well-maintained and looked in decent condition.

 

And in the middle of all this lovely architecture and scenery was a stopped alien convoy. Crowded around it were what had to be dozens of ADVENT soldiers, with a handful of officers nearby to try and direct the convoy back on its way. Pyrrha herself took up position on a gas station, perched up on the roof and observing the scene through her scope. Not that far ahead of her, she could see the rest of the squad hiding behind a car.

 

“Alright, Nichols,” First Sergeant Killip said, subtly scanning the horizon. “Take out their officers first, we'll deal with the rest. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Pyrrha replied.  She looked out among the convoy, finding a red-cloaked ADVENT soldier gesturing to a squad. This was one of their officers. Pyrrha lined up the scope in her eye, using the built-in rangefinder to check how much she would need to adjust this shot. Three hundred meters, give or take.

 

Lining up the officer in her sights, she couldn't help but recall Alan's words about her scope.  _“Useless for Earth armies,”_ he had said, deriding its rangefinder.  _“Perfect for ADVENT, since they're all the same height.”_ She slowly exhaled, preparing to squeeze the trigger.  _Smooth._ The rifle kicked back, and her scope shook as it fired. An instant later, the round hit the officer's head and he fell.

 

“Good shooting!” Killip said, ordering them forward. Pyrrha stayed back, trying to pick out officers from the now-confused mass of soldiers and civilians. It should have been easy to spot them, but the reds, blacks, greens and blues of people and ADVENT mixed together, forming a flurry of color that she couldn't keep up with. She could feel her eyes straining, trying to find even a small clue that'd help her support the squad.

 

_There we go_ . One of the officers stood tall, gesturing wildly with his hand. This was her opportunity. Pyrrha swung the scope over, just in time to see the officer duck down and… grab the VIP? Why was he dragging their target with him?

“Nikos!” Engberg shouted over the radio. “You plan on shooting that fucking ballbag or what?!”

Pyrrha didn't need much more in the way of encouragement. Another squeeze of the trigger, and the officer escorting their target fell. Without his escort, he panicked, heading to a nearby car.

“Sir!” Pyrrha reported. “The VIP is sitting behind the red car!”

“Good work, Nixon,” Killip replied. “Let's go get him! Move, butter muffins!”

 

Before the squad could move up, however, alien rifle fire nailed the car, setting it aflame. Before even the VIP could move away, it exploded, blinding her with the explosion itself and the smoke that billowed out afterward.

“Ah,  _hell,_ ” Lt. Conagher said, running over to the car. Through her scope, Pyrrha saw him round the corner, shaking his head. “Dagnabit, dammit! Killip, VIP's a goner!”

_“_ _Dammit!”_ Killip yelled. “Alright, fall back, men, we've  _failed._ ”

 

Within minutes, the Skyranger had been called, and they linked back up with their transport. Killip was last on, glaring at Pyrrha as she made her way on. He kept silent until they took off, back on their way to the  _Avenger._

“Men, we've  _failed,_ ” he repeated. “I'm going to tell you ladies a secret:  _**I hate losing!** _ ”

“Well, hell, Killip,” Lt. Conagher said, readjusting his goggles. “Ain't like we coulda done anything. ADVENT shot up their own convoy just to try and nail me.”

“Conrad, I do not blame you for our  _miserable defeat_ today.” Killip pointed a finger at Pyrrha, keeping his balance by way of a strap hanging from the ceiling. “ _You,_ Nixon, I  _do_ blame! Explain yourself! You didn't kill that officer before he grabbed our VIP!”

 

Pyrrha's eyes went wide, confused. What was he talking about? “Sir, I… I tried to get a shot on him earlier, but-”

“But  _what?!_ What's the matter, hippie,  _hair_ get in your eyes?! Now hear this,  _camper,_ you are not  _wanted_ on my beloved battlefield! You're OUT of my squad!”

She blinked, not understanding what she had done wrong. “Wh-what do you mean? What did I do?”

“You dishonored this entire unit!” He gritted his teeth, wagging his finger at her like he was disciplining a child. “I  _never_ liked you, Nixon.  You better hope someone else takes you in, because you're never going to be under my command  _ever again!”_

 

Pyrrha's shoulders fell, and she swallowed hard. A lump formed in her throat, and memories of Yang's outburst in Greece came back to her all at once. She avoided looking at anyone in the squad, afraid if she matched eyes with somebody, their disappointment would bleed into her. Once again, the great expectations others had of her were shattered. It took everything in her to not start crying now.  Maybe all of this was a mistake.

 

* * *

 

 

Returning to the  _Avenger,_ Pyrrha isolated herself. She didn't want anyone, least of all those where were in her squad, to see her weak and broken. Only Jaune had ever been allowed to see her like that, and every time she remembered his concerned face looking at her, trying to dry her tears, it tore her apart.

 

A few days later, all soldiers of XCOM were assembled in the bay. At the head of the room stood Shen and Tygan, alongside Central Officer Bradford. Nearby, the Commander stood, watching over the entire scene.

“At ease, everyone,” Bradford said, gesturing to them as he held up a little green vial. “This was recovered at the alien blacksite by First Sergeant Killip's squad two weeks ago. Dr. Tygan and Chief Engineer Shen have been examining this vial since then, and we've made some… disturbing discoveries. Dr. Tygan, if you would.”

 

Tygan took up the makeshift podium, clearly uncomfortable with being the center of attention. “As we are all aware, XCOM has been tracking thousands of missing civilians since ADVENT's takeover. We fully believe we have found them.”

Pyrrha blinked, unsure what they were implying until it hit her all at once. They had to have been in the vial, but… how? It seemed impossible. What… what were the doing to them? Around her, Pyrrha could hear others whispering, speculating on the information they had just heard.

“ADVENT has been screening select individuals through their Gene Therapy Clinics,” Tygan explained. “From there, suitable candidates are sent to the blacksite. I believe Mr. Killip and his squad can attest to the disturbing nature of that facility. Regardless, the missing civilians have been… found. Uh, Miss Shen?”

 

On cue, Shen headed forward, holding up a strange holographic gauntlet. “This is the Skulljack,” she proclaimed. “Each squad will be given one of these for field use as soon as possible. Find your nearest friendly ADVENT officer, stab him in the head with this, and we'll gain complete access to the ADVENT psionic network.  We'll be able to find out why the aliens are doing this to us with this tool.”

 

“This is a standing, overriding order,” Bradford added. “Disciplinary action will be taken if you have a chance to use this thing in combat and you don't take it. Squad leaders, come retrieve a Skulljack. Dismissed.”

 

The soldiers dispersed as squad leaders headed up, and soon Pyrrha found herself next to Yang and Weiss, both looking distraught.

“Are we gonna talk about how fucked up that was?” Yang asked, clutching her stomach.

“I… I remember them talking about this when I first got here,” Weiss said, her eyes hollow. “They said they were trying to find fifty thousand people. It's just a  _massacre._ ”

“We have to help them,” Pyrrha said, trying and failing to hold back tears. “They don't deserve that fate.”

“What can we do, though?” Yang asked.

 

That was the all important question, wasn't it? None of them had any authority. They didn't even have a clue where to go, where to start striking back. Trying to do it solo was suicide. They all recognized, conceded even, that relying on their leaders was the only thing they could do. Pyrrha, Yang and Weiss went to bed, the troubling thoughts of the genocide that was happening on Earth wracking their brains and tormenting their sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

She was not chosen to accompany any squad into combat for another week. Her training continued under Corporal Engberg and Alan's tutelage, until it drew to an end. With little else left to occupy her time, Pyrrha took to meticulously cleaning her weapon every day after heading to the range. If nothing else, the ritual of keeping the Dragunov clean would distract her. She again lost track of time as she fell into her routine.

 

One day, Price interrupted it. She awoke to find him standing at the foot of her bed, papers in his hand. “Nikos,” he said, tossing the stack at her. “You've got new orders. Seems like the Commander wants you specifically on this one.”

Confused, Pyrrha picked up the orders. She was to join Menace 1-5. Yang and Weiss's squad. She though it was full, why was she being assigned to it?

“I… don't understand, Captain,” Pyrrha said. “Why is the Commander sending me to Misfit?”

Price shrugged. “Could go and ask her. Be at the briefing room in three hours.”

 

Not much time. Pyrrha didn't have the luxury of being able to talk to the Commander, not when she was undoubtedly busy with running the resistance. Pyrrha quickly showered, washing away the grime of yesterday and ate a similarly quick breakfast. By the time she was done, there was still an hour and a half left until the briefing.  And so, she went back to cleaning her rifle.

 

Yang and Weiss both made themselves ready for the briefing after a while, and Pyrrha soon did as well. Almost immediately, Weiss tilted her head, wondering what was going on.

“Wait, Pyrrha,” she asked. “Are you part of our squad now?”

“Temporary assignment, I think,” Pyrrha said. “Captain Price said that the Commander wanted me on this mission.”

Yang nodded, impressed. “Huh, cool. Wonder what it is. Did he tell you anything about it?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I know as much as you do, I'm afraid.”

“Well,” Weiss said, smiling as she picked up her combat kit. “It'll be nice to fight alongside you again, Pyrrha.”

“ Yeah, it'll be pretty cool,” Yang agreed. “C'mon, let's go, yeah?”

 

Together, the three headed into the briefing room, where Alan, Lieutenant Ludwig, Freeman and Captain Rex were already waiting. All except Captain Rex ignored them as they entered, each one preoccupied with something else. In their chairs were dossiers, small folders containing everything they'd need to know about where they would be heading. Usually, these had pictures of the battlefield, or expected area of operations.

 

For the most part, these pictures were of city centers or dilapidated built-up areas. This time, however, the picture showed a black two-story building, built in the middle of a heavy jungle. ADVENT logos covered the structure,  and the photos were blurry. Unusual, since the photos typically were high-quality.

 

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Captain Rex said, beginning their briefing. “Our mission today is to destroy an alien facility. We're not sure what this place is doing, but what we do know is that it's critical to the alien's latest operations. Freeman, you'll be handling the explosives for this.”

“What?” Freeman asked. “Hold on, I don't know if I want to be carrying around the tactical death ball around here.”

“Then maybe Privates Schnee or Xiao Long will hold it  _for_ you,” Rex said. “Also note, Private Nikos has been temporarily assigned to our squad for this one. Standard infiltration, we'll be dropped about three kilometers from the facility to avoid ADVENT scans, and from there we'll march. When we plant the explosives, we'll call the Skyranger and extract. Any questions?”

 

Pyrrha found herself  feeling… somewhat comfortable. Even if it was a temporary assignment, being around Yang and Weiss made her feel at ease. His gruff demeanor notwithstanding, Pyrrha  knew that Alan liked having her around. He had said so himself, and really, it was only Freeman and Ludwig who didn't seem to care one way or the other. She caught herself smiling, actually happy that she had found her place. Like a lot of things, she knew it would only be temporary, but that was okay. Pyrrha would enjoy it while it lasted.

 

“ Any idea on the garrison?” Alan asked.

“Nothing. Our scans aren't getting much.”

Alan groaned, scratching his face. “Might be a regular force, then. Reckon we'll find out when we get there, yeah?”

“If there's nothing else,” Captain Rex said, “then let's get ready to go. We'll be departing in five minutes.”

 

* * *

 

 

Due to the uncertainty regarding enemy forces, most of them had loaded up on extra ammunition for this mission. Pyrhha stared out the window the entire way to their destination, a place called Vietnam.  The harsh smell of some kind of engine liquid burnt her nose. She didn't remember this the last time she was in here. Maybe it had gotten hit by stray weapons fire on the last mission. Pyrrha did her best to ignore it.

 

“Hey, Pyrrha,” Yang said, drawing her attention away from the window. “You were with Killip's squad last week, right?”

“ I was,” she said, unsure of where this was going.

“What'd you think of it?”

Pyrrha took a sharp breath in. His verbal assault at the end of their failed mission was still fresh in her mind, bringing back memories of feeling the smallest she had ever been. Upon reflection, Pyrrha knew she was not responsible for the failure like Killip had blamed her. Though, that didn't make her feel any less terrible about the ordeal.

“Well,” Pyrrha finally said, “he certainly has an…  _interesting_ way of leading the squad.”

“You could say that again,” Weiss said. “He's going to get them killed.”

 

“Hey!” Captain Rex interjected. “First off, he's First Sergeant Killip to you. Secondly, I don't think I like where this conversation is heading. Cut the chatter ad keep your heads straight, we're close to the landing zone.”

Whatever talk remained on the Skyranger died down, and slowly the ship slowed, rocking back and forth as it hovered over the jungles of Vietnam. As per usual, ropes appeared allowing them to fast-rope down to the ground. Once they had all landed safely, the order came in to move out. It would be a hard march to the facility.

 

The marching order was established quickly. Captain Rex, Ludwig, and Weiss were up front, with Alan and Freeman in the middle. Yang and Pyrrha made up the rear,  each of them not-so-subtly making their way through the jungle. Yang constantly looked up to the front, trying to judge if Captain Rex could hear them or not. Pyrrha was sure she wanted to revisit the conversation about Killip.

“So, come on, what's he like?”

Pyrrha glanced up, unsure if anyone other than Alan and Freeman could hear. “Yang, I-”

“ _It's fine,_ he can't hear us.”

She sighed. “I know you respect him, Yang. But… he doesn't accept any solution other than his own. I think he has a death wish.”

“Lotta people are like that around here,” Yang countered.

“Not like him. He doesn't listen to anyone but Central Officer Bradford and the Commander, and even then it feels like he only does when he has to.”

 

“ Approaching target,” Captain Rex said. “Form up, let's figure out how to take this one on.”

They tightened up, gathering in a small huddle as they approached the clearing. It had begun to rain, but this didn't seem to bother the garrison any. The soft  _pitter-patter_ of raindrops bounced off the canopy above them, and made the ground wet.

“They don't know we're here,” Captain Rex said quietly. “Sergeant, Private Nikos, head to that building there, provide overwatch for us.”

“Got it, Captain,” Alan replied.

 

Pyrrha turned on her headset as she and Alan ran to the small building, keeping as quiet as they possibly could and out of sight. No telling how far the aliens could see.

“Corporal, Privates, you three are main assault force. Breach and clear, standard procedure. Lieutenant, you and I will provide close covering fire, but I need you to patch anyone up if they take fire.”

“Ach,” Ludwig muttered. “Ze healing is not as revarding as ze hurting, but I vill make sure zat all of you are in excellent health.”

Alan ascended the small building first, turning around to give Pyrrha a hand in getting up. He pointed to a spot on it for Pyrrha to lay and set up her rifle, and began unfolding his bipod to give him some support. As she placed her hand on the rough rooftop, Pyrrha was suddenly glad she had opted to get tactical clothing that was far more suited to this sort of terrain. She couldn't imagine lying down in this with her old skirt.

 

“Captain,” Alan said as he adjusted his scope. “Interrogative. What's our timeline here?”

“Thirty minutes in and out from first contact,” Captain Rex answered.

“Gotcha.” Apparently having sufficiently adjusted, Alan settled in. “Alright, ankle biter, you've got the low power scope, so you're playing spotter for me.”

“I can check ranges for you too,” she pointed out, flicking off the safety on her rifle.

“Don't bother,” he said, tapping his head. “Got all the ranges I need up here.”

 

Pyrrha began to scan, checking the area as Alan pulled back the bolt on his rifle, ensuring a round was loaded. He soon reported that they were in position, and both of them were told to hold fire until further notice.

“You see them?” Alan whispered, though he really didn't need to. At this range, it was unlikely they'd hear him.

“The three at the bridge, yes,”  Pyrrha replied.

“Check right for me. What's over there?”

“Two large ones. Green and pink.”

“Mutons.”

“Smaller one. I think it's called a Sectoid?”

Alan grunted. “Yeah. Knock that piker down first chance.”

 

Slowly, the rest of the squad moved into position. They had successfully gotten to within 100 meters of the facility without ADVENT even being aware of them. All they needed now was an opening. The two Mutons and Sectoid that Pyrrha had spotted moved around the corner, obscuring her vision of them. With no other contacts spotted, she and Alan watched a bridge that spanned the valley the squad hid in. ADVENT had built a checkpoint on the end closest to the facility, probably a security measure. All seemed normal so far.

 

Pyrrha spotted red. An officer. “Contact, officer and two soldiers, approaching the checkpoint from the left.”

“Fuck,” Alan muttered, scrambling to get on his radio. “Captain, hold.”

“What is it, Sergeant?” Captain Rex replied, as quiet as he could be over the radio.

“ADVENT officer, incoming to checkpoint, left side.”

She tracked the officer, carefully keeping his head in her sights. The two soldiers accompanying him both had strange batons on their backs that crackled with some sort of red electricity.

 

“ _Shit,_ ” Freeman hissed. “He's covered by two goddamn stun lancers too, what a joke.”

“What's the play, Captain?” Alan asked.

“If our  _Scharfschützen_ can eliminate ze lancers, zen ve can shtill keep to our timetable,” Ludwing said. “ Could even use ze Skulljack, but… you would be risking yourself,  _Herr Hauptmann..._ ”

“We'll have to go with it. Sergeant Mundy, Private Nikos,  be ready to fire on my order .”

“ Alright, ankle-biter,” Alan said, shifting his aim. “Take the one on the right. I got the fucker on the left.”

Pyrrha swung her scope over, centering it on the marked man.  Out of the corner of her scope, she saw the squad moving up, hugging the edge of the valley. She deftly moved her finger over the trigger, waiting for  Captain Rex's word.

 

“Steady, steady,” Alan whispered. “Wave goodbye to your head, wanker.”

Pyrrha watched Captain Rex inch forward, before leaping out and ordering them to fire.  In unison, she and Alan squeezed their triggers, sending rounds downrange to the so-called stun lancers. In short order, they fell as orange blood exploded out of their heads. There was no hiding it now – ADVENT knew they were there.  The officer broke into a sprint, seeking out cover near the security gate.  The group that was at the bridge fell back, helping cover the officer as he retreated.

“ Baseplate, ” Captain Rex shouted,  grappling with the officer. “ Be advised! Utilizing the Skulljack! Do what you have to!”  Within seconds, the soldiers near the checkpoint fell, no doubt victims of Yang and Weiss's weapons.

 

Pyrrha tracked her friends head to the facility, and Freeman tossed a small chunk of explosives onto the wall. After a few seconds, it exploded, and a decently-sized hole was opened up.  Alarms began to blare as soldiers poured out from the facility, including the group of Mutons and Sectoids that Pyrrha had spotted earlier. Over their radio, Pyrrha could hear Tygan and Shen walking Captain Rex on what to do, as well as shouts from Bradford criticizing them for changing the plan so fast and not telling them sooner.

 

Rex withdrew the Skulljack from the officer's head, and he crumpled to the ground. Almost immediately, a strange ball of light formed, with strands of electricity snapping to the ground to and fro. It exploded in an intense bright light, revealing something… clearly not of this world. Its skin was completely golden, rapidly fading in and out as if it were a glitched Scroll screen. After-images sustained, but only for the blink of an eye. As Pyrrha hovered her scope over its…  _face,_ she saw nothing save for two glowing white eyes, with some sort of black smoke billowing out.

 

It was like facing a Grimm for the first time.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK,” Freeman shouted. “YOU WEREN'T THERE AND NOW YOU'RE  _REAL!”_

“That must be the codex responsible for safeguarding the alien psionic network!” Tygan said, tapping into the squad's comm system. “Clearly responding to our intrusion, no doubt.”

“Menace 1-5, you have your target,” Bradford said. “Eliminate that Codex by all means available.”

“Sergeant, Private!” Rex ordered, ducking into cover and pulling out his other pistol. “Take that thing down!  Xiao  Long, Schnee, cover Freeman and  _get into that facility!”_

 

Pyrrha readjusted her rifle, centering her sights right on top of the Codex as she pulled the trigger. It  _looked_ like her shot hit, but when the scope stopped shaking, it was gone.

“On ze left!” Ludwig shouted, firing off a burst at the strange being.

“What in the  _fuck?_ ” Alan muttered.

“Fascinating,” Tygan marveled. “The Codex is projecting itself across multiple dimensions, constantly in flux with our own!”

 

“ _Keep shooting!”_ Rex ordered. “I want this thing  _dead!_ ”

Pyrrha got up from her prone position, finding it unwieldy for fighting this foe, opting instead for a crouching supported position. She tracked the Codex as it danced in and out of her vision, firing strange beams of green energy all around. It brought its hands out, as if it were charging up some sort of strange attack. This was her chance. Pyrrha steadied her aim and squeezed the trigger, sending another shot downrange and right into its head.

 

The shot disrupted the Codex, stopping it from finishing whatever attack it had in mind. It let out a hellish, unnatural mechanical scream as it curled up and disappeared, leaving behind only a black, skull-shaped remain with a protrusion extending from it that fell to the ground. Pyrrha relaxed, exhaling the breath she had kept in for these tense moments.

 

And then a second Codex appeared.

 

“The Codex appears to be making autonomous copies of itself!” Tygan noted, barely containing his excitement for this terrifying foe.

_“Kill ze Codex!”_ Ludwig shouted as he unloaded an entire magazine into it, swiftly swapping a fresh one in.

Pyrrha regained her stance, having temporarily shifted to her off-hand for a second. She fired several more shots, some missing, some hitting the mark. Wide shots from the interior sometimes whizzed by, but she couldn't find time to focus on them. All she could do was help bring down this new Codex.

“Hey, I'm not usually one to break up a party,” Freeman reported, gunfire breaking through his radio. “But we really should think about getting out of here, now that we got the charges planted!”

 

“Great job, Corporal,” Rex answered, taking cover and reloading. “Now get out here and help us kill this thing!”

“Yeah, about that-”

“CORPORAL!” Rex screamed, standing back up and getting right into the action.

“Okay, on our way to help kill the weird alien thing, right away!” Freeman answered.

 

Gunfire emanated from inside the building and rippled across the jungle as both teams fought their respective foes. Pyrrha had knocked down so many copies of the Codex, she was barely sure which one was the original anymore.  Pyrrha glanced over, watching Yang, Weiss and Freeman running from the facility, with a squad of aliens hot on their trail.

 

This Codex seemed to be weaker than the other ones she had taken down. They had it covered. Pyrrha had to help her friends. She swung her scope over, hovering her aim on an ADVENT Priest that had Weiss in his sights. Perfect shot. All she needed to do was pull the trigger.

 

_Click._

 

Pyrrha had run out of ammo at the exact worst possible time. Panicking, she pulled a new magazine out of her bag, swapping it out like she had always trained. In the rush, she almost forgot to rack the bolt as she took the scope up to her eyes, loading a fresh round into the chamber. Now able to focus again on aiming, she had a perfect view.

 

This time, it was of Weiss being shot by the Priest.

 

She didn't hear it, but she could see Weiss crying out in pain, watching the rounds tear through her jacket. Blood immediately began to seep out as she fell to the ground.

“Weiss!” Pyrrha shouted, planting a bullet in the Priest's head in response. Ignoring her orders, Pyrrha jumped off the building, running over to check on her friend.

“Schnee's been hit!” Rex shouted, delivering the final blow to the Codex. “Lieutenant!”

“Ach,  _ was ist los? _ ” Ludwig asked.

 

As she neared Weiss, Pyrrha could hear Alan's rifle firing, mixing with short bursts from Freeman's submachine gun. A call for the Skyranger got lost in the noise as Yang knelt over their friend. By the time Pyrrha had arrived, Ludwig was on the scene, his dark eyes rapidly analyzing Weiss's condition as he slung his rifle behind him. He pulled forward a bag with a red cross on it, probably his medical supplies. Rummaging around, Ludwig pulled out a syringe, adjusting his round glasses.

 

“Hold schtill,” he said. “Zis vill only shting for a moment.” He stabbed Weiss in the leg with the syringe, injecting some sort of medicine into her. In response, Weiss weakly cried out in pain, before closing her eyes and going limp.

“Weiss, tell me you're okay,” Yang asked, her voice breaking as Weiss's eyes began to shut. “Weiss, please just say…  _ dammit!” _ Yang immediately stood up, getting in Ludwig's face. “What the fuck did you put into her?! What was that?!”

“Do not vorry,” Ludwig said, closing his bag. “It vas just a sedative  _ und _ pain reliever. She vill have to go to ze medical bay vhen ve return to ze  _ Avenger _ .”

“Fucking  _ sedative?!” _ Yang sputtered, gesturing to Weiss. “Look at her! How do you know she's okay?! She's  _ covered _ in  _ blood!” _

 

Ludwig looked Weiss over again, with a blank look on his face. “Mhm,” he replied, nodding. “Zat she is. Eizer vay, she is fine, of zat I assure you. Vell, for ze moment, at least.”

Behind them, Alan and Freeman had lowered a stretcher from the Skyranger. Yang and Pyrrha helped secure Weiss to it, and together, they all headed into the Skyranger. Soon, Menace 1-5 was on its way back to the  _ Avenger. _

 

Nobody said anything. Rex clutched the remains of the Codex in his hand, regarding it like an artifact. Ludwig had taken to writing down notes in a small notebook. Alan had lowered his hat over his eyes, trying to get some sleep on the way back, as Freeman counted magazines.

“Lieutenant Ludwig?” Pyrrha asked.

Ludwig remained silent, only glancing up at her with a raised eyebrow from his notes.

“If I may,” she said. “And please forgive me if I step out of line, but… your bedside manner leaves much to be desired.”

He glared at her for several moments, and the tense air was thick and oppressing. Alan chuckled, his shoulders shaking as he smirked. “Ankle-biter's got a point there, Doc.”

 

Ludwig looked up from his notebook, breathing in sharply as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “From now on,” he said, “it is  _ verboten _ for you zree to address me as  _ Leutnant Ludwig. _ You vill call me Medic, or  _ Herr Doktor. _ ” He went back to his notes, having made his point. After a few minutes, though, he added. “As far as your criticisms, I vill keep it in mind.  _ Danke, nehme ich an. _ ”

By the time the  _ Avenger _ was in view, little else had been said. Yang and Pyrrha had been too concerned with watching over Weiss that they could scarcely keep track of where they were.

 

“Whatever's in this thing had better be worth it,” Captain Rex said, tossing the Codex skull up and down in his hand.


	10. High Ideals

Ludwig immediately whisked Weiss to the infirmary upon their return to the  _ Avenger, _ declaring  the poor girl  a medical emergency.  The wait that ensued went on for hours, with no word of progress.  Even by the time dinner came around, Yang and Pyrrha didn't  get a second with either the doctor or his patient . The only time he left the infirmary,  in fact, was to eat a brief, rushed dinner, his arms covered in blood up to his elbows. He categorically refused to speak to anyone directly, only muttering to himself in German.  He stared ahead with a long, forlorn look in his eyes.

 

Pyrrha felt he was under a great deal of stress, seeing this doctor on the verge of insanity. From what she had seen and heard, Lieutenant Ludwig had devoted himself entirely in his work, and it showed in spades here as his thousand-mile stare was matched only by the one First Sergeant Killip had. Night fell with  no more news as Ludwig disappeared to the infirmary  again . Near midnight, he woke them up, bone tired, declaring he had completed “anozzer successful procedure.” He ordered them not to disturb Weiss until morning, and even then to wait until later.

 

* * *

 

 

Menace 1-5 was given a reprieve from combat, but Pyrrha was not. New orders soon came down for her. She would be accompanying Able 5-5, temporarily replacing a squad member who had gone to a place that General O'Neill only referred to as the “psionic chamber”. Pyrrha was unfamiliar with it, and questions about the psionic chamber were rebuffed. Either way, she had a new squad.

 

Introductions were quick. General O'Neill preferred to lead from the front, and always accompanied the squad on missions. Major Carter was just about the only friendly face around. Their Captain, a Steven Nakahara from Japan, toted a massive machine gun and grenade launcher that matched his gruff demeanor. Lieutenant De Vroom cracked jokes  as he sprinted across the battlefield with his shotgun. And finally, Sergeant Nielson quietly cradled her rifle.

 

Supposedly, Pyrrha was replacing the squad medic. Just for this mission though, Sergeant Nielson had traded out her purpose-built hacking G REMLIN , a small semi-autonomous drone, for a medical variant that was stocked with all sorts of medical kit and gear they'd need for field triage. Perhaps for the best, Pyrrha had her own niche, securing her spot in the squad.

 

The mission came as sort of a surprise, and thus they had no formal briefing. Instead, they had been stuffed onto the Skyranger at General O'Neill's orders, with little time to gather weapons and ammo.  The familiar dull roar of the engines was somewhat comforting today.

“ Alright, gang,” O'Neill said,  distributing a grainy photograph to them. “This here's our VIP, Vincent Olmos. Right now, he's being escorted by one of our undercover ops, but we just got a distress signal from them. No idea what we're facing down there, could be ADVENT, could be worse. Keep on your toes, and try not to die, please?”

 

Before she could even comprehend the new mission, they had landed in Mexico City, under the cover of darkness. It was nearly pitch-black, and the only beams of light for miles around were from their flashlights. For some reason, strings of multicolored lights were hung across the streets. Some decorated windows, forming stars and other familiar shapes, while others were wrapped around a tree for some reason.

 

“General,” Tygan advised, tapping into their radio. “Be advised, we are detecting high lost activity in this area. I would advise moving with extreme caution.”

“Oh for crying out loud, zombies,  _ really? _ ” O'Neill asked, sighing. “It just seems so… cliché, but alright, Tygan.”

“Well, cliché or not, you've got more than just the lost there,” Bradford said. “We're picking up ADVENT incoming. Get in and get out, Able 5-5.”

O'Neill nodded, gripping his weapon tightly. “Standard course of action. Last known coordinates of our VIP and his distress signal are that way. Keep watch for the lost.”

 

Pyrrha kept close, trying to spot anything in the darkness through her scope, but finding it was for naught. Why did they even need her if the night was impenetrable?

“Um, excuse me, Sergeant” Pyrrha whispered, getting close to Nielson.

“What is it?”

“ What does the General mean when he talks of the lost?”

Nielson muttered something in French. “You don't want to know, kid .”

 

“ The Lost,” Major Carter said, dropping back to fall in line with Pyrrha and the sergeant, “are what we call victims of alien bioweapons from the early phase of the war. It was a great excuse for ADVENT to clean places like this up, rebuild cities in their image.”

Pyrrha felt a lump form in her throat. “B-bioweapons? You mean…”

“Their blacksite wasn't enough, no,” Major Carter finished. “ ADVENT still drops them from time to time. Come on, we've got bigger problems.”

The squad picked up the pace. Disturbing, echoing howls could be heard as gunfire bounced off the abandoned city blocks. Their VIP must have been in trouble.

 

Their flashlights shed light, both literal and metaphorical, on the situation. The VIP had jury-rigged a turret to the top of a broken-down car, hiding behind it as he fiddled with controls. Upon spotting them, he dropped his work and ran over.

“Are you guys my ride out of here?” he asked.

“Where's Gadhavi?” O'Neill countered, scanning the area with his gun.

The VIP's face twisted in confusion. “Your man? I don't know, he was right behind me!”

 

Major Carter pointed her light to the VIP's former position, spotting a man with terracotta-colored skin lying on the ground. His rifle was at his side, and from his head ran streaks of crimson. It didn't look like he was breathing. She began to move to help him up, maybe retrieve him, but Captain Nakahara stopped her.

“Not worth it,” he muttered grimly.

“What do you mean?” Pyrrha demanded.

“I mean  _ not worth it.” _

 

“Dammit,” O'Neill said. “How much ammo on that thing?”

The VIP shrugged, trying very hard to start moving away from the hordes of pale green-skinned people heading their way. “Don't know, don't care right now!”

A rumbling scream of pure agony emanated from the horde. Pyrrha watched flashes of light illuminate them stumbling over cars, concrete barricades, and each other as they rushed towards them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Nielson shouted. “Contact! They're making contact!”

“Run, or shoot?” Pyrrha asked, hesitating. “Run or shoot?!”

 

“Both!” O'Neill ordered, covering them as he opened fire.

Pyrrha broke from her short-term cover, following the general as he ducked and weaved his way through the abandoned city. Howls came from all around, and through the darkness she could see luminescent green balls of light appear from buildings, tumbling over one another as they ran for her.  Scattered gunfire broke out, mixing with the screams of dying Lost. Pyrrha looked ahead just in time to see fire.

 

“ADVENT Purifiers!” Major Carter shouted. “Hit the fuel tanks!”

Their bodies were perfectly illuminated by the fire they spewed. Despite the gunfire, it didn't seem ADVENT even saw them. Pyrrha slowed her breathing as best she could, the exertion ramping up her heartbeat, and took her scope to her eye. The fuel tank was right in sight. One squeeze of the trigger was all it took.

 

The recoil was harsh against her shoulder. She had forgotten to brace properly. In the end, it mattered little – the Purifier, and two or three others next to him, exploded in a brilliant orange burst, sending a shockwave across the block. Deep within the city, the same horrible cries echoed, almost doubled in strength.

“Who the  _ fuck _ took that shot?!” Captain Nakahara demanded.

“Well, I guess 'stealth' is out the window! They know we're here now!”

Sergeant Nielson shoved Pyrrha forward, keeping pace with her. “The hell was that, new kid?! What did Major Carter  _ just _ say?!”

 

“What? I though she said 'hit the fuel tanks'?”

“ _ Don't _ hit them, dumb-dumb!” Lieutenant De Vroom shouted, chambering a new round in his shotgun.

“ General,” Bradford said over their comms. “We're detecting heat signatures all over! The Lost are almost right on top of you! Do you have the VIP and his escort?”

“VIP in tow, negative on the escort,” O'Neill reported. “Took a hit, can't recover him.”

“ His brother won't be too happy,” Bradford said.

 

Pyrrha never heard a response from O'Neill. A square of blue lights appeared on the ground, their mark to assemble to rope up to the Skyranger. The only problem was it wouldn't be there for another several minutes. The aliens did not take long to catch on to their perilous position. Immediately, squads of aliens descended upon them, brought down by their aerial transports.

 

The gunfire mixed with the soft clinking of casings as they fell to the ground, with alien plasma rifle bursts singeing the air around her.  The undying moans of the Lost rang in her ears as she tried to spot their glowing eyes in the darkness. She looked down – one magazine left. Similar reports came from the squad. They were running low on ammo, and fast.

 

Finally, relief. The Skyranger arrived, and ropes fell down. One by one, the squad ascended to the waiting transport, with the VIP first. Pyrrha was lifted up, watching a horde of green dots swarm the place they had seen the VIP's escort. Was there really no other way? Did they have to abandon him? Pyrrha felt her stomach drop as they flew away, back to the  _ Avenger. _

 

General O'Neill said nothing on the way back, staring at the floor as the rest of the squad made jokes and congratulated themselves on a mission well done.

 

* * *

 

 

The fact that they could not save Gadhavi stuck in Pyrrha's mind. The scenario ran through her head millions of times, dreams and  nightmares where she alternatively saved him despite all odds, or got caught in the ravenous horde alongside him. Since her temporary assignment was now over, she suddenly had nothing to do but contemplate. That, and clean her weapon.

 

It was all she did, really. In the few times she was aware of what she was doing, Pyrrha found herself cleaning her Dragunov endlessly. Other than  running through saving Gadhavi over and over, she didn't have time to think of anything else. The comfortable ritual kept her grounded.

 

She was only broken out of it when Yang literally shook her, looking concerned.

“What?” Pyrrha asked, her mouth feeling full of cotton.

“Dude, I've been trying to get your attention for like, five minutes.”

Pyrrha blinked. “I… I'm sorry, I didn't hear…”

“Yeah, clearly,” Yang said, frowning.  Was Yang irritated with her still? Or just struggling with seeing Weiss wounded? Maybe it was a bit of both. Sighing, Yang soon sat down next to her. “I'm sorry, I just didn't think any of us would get  _ hurt. _ ”

 

“Yeah,” Pyrrha agreed. “It doesn't seem like Aura works. I wish it did.”

Yang nodded solemnly. “Ludwig – Doc, said she was lucky.

Pyrrha said nothing, frowning as she slid the dust cover back on her rifle. “We won't always be, Yang. I should have had you covered.”

“What are you talking about? You were fighting that Codex thing.”

Pyrrha exhaled, trying very hard not to start crying. The memories of Weiss being shot flooded back like she had opened the levee. “I could have helped you. I should have kept a better watch on my ammo. If I had just-”

“ _ Don't  _ say it,” Yang warned. “You didn't do anything wrong, Pyrrha.”

 

Didn't Yang realize Pyrrha had played this scene over in her head dozens of times already? Did she think that Pyrrha was somehow unaware of how she hadn't done anything wrong, but felt responsible anyway? Was Yang ignorant to the idea that maybe all of this was feeling like a rehash of the Fall of Beacon all over again?

 

“Come on,” Yang finally said, jerking her head. “Let's go get something to eat.”

Pyrrha nodded. Maybe the distraction of food would help. She slowly put away the scattered bits of her weapon, following Yang to the mess hall. She still had no idea how time worked here – Pyrrha thought that it was late evening, but the room was full of people. All sorts of breakfast foods were lined up for anyone to partake in. Picking up trays, she and Yang took out bits of food here and there. Pyrrha preferred the fresh-looking fruits, and eggs over the fried potatoes and meats Yang took.

 

Once they had gotten their food, the search began for a table. A lot of people had grouped up in their squads, but Yang told her that Alan and Ludwig preferred to eat alone. Freeman wasn't even up yet, apparently. Neither of them knew what Captain Rex's food schedule was like, but they didn't feel comfortable sitting with him anyway even if he had been here. All that left was a table in the corner. A table occupied by First Sergeant Killip.

 

Immediately,  Yang began heading toward him. He hadn't seen them yet, but Pyrrha feared he would still react harshly to her last mission with him. The unknown paralyzed her.  Killip's signature helmet was gone, and his cold eyes were visible.

“Yang,” Pyrrha whispered, “maybe we should-”

“Good morning, First Sergeant!” Yang said cheerfully, plopping her tray down next to his.

Sighing, Pyrrha resigned herself to her fate, joining them at the table.

“Oh, good morning Yong, and uh…”

“Nikos, sir.”

“Right! Niklas!”

 

Pyrrha glanced over at the First Sergeant's breakfast tray. Massive pile of bacon, too many eggs to count, a tower of toast threatening to topple over, fried potatoes dripping grease, and enough orange juice to swim in. How did he even have time to eat all of this? Pyrrha tried to keep her gag reflex down, hoping the fresh food she had gotten would balance out Killip's absurd breakfast.

 

After a while, Killip noticed something was amiss. Chewing on a handful of bacon, he stared across at them. “Private, why are you two so damn quiet? Two ladies like you ought to have plenty to talk about.”

Surprised by the sudden question, Yang stuttered. “Oh, uh, you see sir, we only got back from our mission a day ago, and-”

“Oh, that's right,” he said, almost like he had forgotten his keys, waving a fat finger at them. “Your squad brought down that alien Modex! How'd that go, Yung?”

Yang laughed nervously. “Well, uh, I didn't really fight it myself. Pyrrha did most of it.”

 

Pyrrha's eyes went wide, and she shot a look at Yang in shock. Why had she handed this off to her? Neither of them knew how Killip viewed her after the failed mission. She looked back to see Killip staring right at her, his piercing eyes breaking into her very soul. She gulped hard.

“Well?” he asked in between bites of bacon. “We're  _ waiting,  _ sister _. _ ”

“Uh, well… I mostly just did my job. The… the Codex appeared out of nowhere, and Sergeant Mundy and I focused it while the rest of the team planted charges.”

 

“Excellent work, then!” Killip said, grinning wide. “No casualties, killed a new alien, you should have gotten a promotion for that, Nichols!”

Yang and Pyrrha exchanged a sadness-filled look. Once again, they were reminded of Weiss's situation right when they were supposed to be trying to escape it.

“Um, sir,” Yang said, looking back at him as he munched on a slice of toast. “Our friend Weiss got hit on our way out. She's… she's in the infirmary now.”

 

Immediately, the slice fell from his mouth and he furrowed his brow.  _ “What? _ ” he growled. “Unacceptable! I'm to be informed of  _ all _ wounded men on this ship  so I can give them a lecture on how not to get shot next time! Who the hell leads your squad, ladies?!”

Yang swallowed audibly. “Captain Rex, sir.”

“God _ dammit, _ ” Killip said, abandoning his breakfast to stand up, fists clenched. “I should have known. Enjoy your breakfast, ladies, I need to go have a  _ discussion _ with Captain Rex.”

The way he said Rex's name with such clear distaste and disdain made it impossible to follow his order. This was a side of Killip that Pyrrha had never expected to see. He stomped off, no doubt heading to Captain Rex. Pyrrha and Yang both stared at their breakfasts, finding the food unappetizing.

 

“When… when did the First Sergeant hold such a grudge against Captain Rex?” Pyrrha asked after several moments.

“I have no idea,” Yang said, shrugging.

Another minute passed, with no change in the status quo. “Do you think we'll get in trouble for this?”

Before Yang could even answer, Killip's voice carried across the dining hall as he shouted out Captain Rex's name. She didn't dare to look. Anything to avoid the consequences. Pyrrha pushed away her breakfast, barely able to even contemplate finishing it as she put her head in her hands.

“How angry does Captain Rex look?” she asked.

She heard Yang turn her chair around for a second. “Pretty mad.”

 

Pyrrha sighed. This wasn't looking to be any better than the past few days, and the morning wasn't even done yet. Slowly, the two made their way out, trying to avoid being spotted by either Captain Rex or First Sergeant Killip.  Rex and Killip's argument escalated in volume until it overwhelmed everything in the mess hall, and echoed out into the halls of the  _ Avenger. _ Maybe they could head over to the infirmary and see Weiss.

 

On their way over, though, they ran into Freeman, who was on his way to the mess hall. His hair was a mess from sleeping, and it looked like he had just rolled out of bed two minutes ago, judging from his  staggering gait.

“Oh, it's you two,” he muttered. “I mistook you guys for someone important.” Finally, a glimmer of recognition hit his eyes, and he furrowed his brow as he pointed to the mess hall. “Uh… what's going on in there?”

“The First Sergeant is… uh, 'talking', to Captain Rex.” Pyrrha answered.

“ _ Riiiiight….” _ Freeman said, scratching his chin. “The fuck's his deal now?”

Yang sighed. “He's pissed nobody told him Weiss got hit.”

 

Freeman's face twisted in confusion, and he took his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose. “Why… why the fuck does  _ he _ care?  _ I  _ sure as hell don't.”

Yang blinked furiously, her face running through a range of emotions as she jerked her neck forward, as if the new angle would help her understand. “You wanna repeat that for me, fire hydrant?”

“Wait, Yang,” Pyrrha said, trying to hold her friend back. “Maybe we should-”

“No!” Yang shot back, shoving Pyrrha's hand away. “I'm not letting this dickhead talk about our friend like that!”

 

Freeman rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Oh, please.  _ I'm _ the dickhead, yeah, after you guys show up here and things start getting  _ fucked! _ ”

“ The hell are you talking about?” Yang challenged.

“It wasn't until you freaks started showing up that I had to do actual  _ work! _ Now the aliens keep coming back, and they keep pulling shit out of their hats like they're fucking Houdini!  _ I did my time, dammit! _ I already saved the world  _ once, _ I don't wanna do it again!”

 

This must have been the delusion that Captain Price had warned Yang about. A lot of the older soldiers said Freeman might start on this, even unprompted. He seemed irritated about it already.

“ _ You _ didn't save anything, jackass!” Yang shouted, clenching her fists. “You got yourself out of Black Mesa and left everyone else to die!”

“If  _ you _ had been there,” Freeman said, pointing at Yang, “you would have too! World's greatest minds, but none of them can figure out how to avoid a fucking spinning saw with a predictable pattern!”

Pyrrha stepped in between the two. “Wait,” she pleaded, “don't you think maybe this is getting out of hand?”

 

“No!” Freeman shouted. “Do  _ you _ know if fermions are really compound particles?  You both think you're so fucking awesome, but you know what? Nobody here  _ cares! _ Your dumbass friend  _ deserved _ to get shot, she needs to learn a thing or two about the real fucking world!”

Incensed, Yang drew back her fist, her eyes wide in unbridled anger, and sent  i t on a crash-course for Freeman's face. He uttered a low  _ oof, _ and fell to the floor like a sack of flour. Yang walked over, and stood tall with h er fists clenched.  Pyrrha knew nothing she could do would stop Yang if she really wanted to hurt him.

“I don't care if they throw me in that cage again, Freeman, I'll fucking  _ kill you _ if you say that again! I don't care if you're the best idiot they have!”

 

Freeman only moaned in response, clutching his jaw. Exhaling and letting her shoulders relax, Yang calmed down.

“Are you alright, Yang?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yeah.  Hand hurts. Idiot has a head like a rock.” She smiled, nursing her injured hand. “ Wanna go see Weiss ?”

The two left Freeman, heading straight to the infirmary. She had never seen it before – the walls were crisp white, with lots of medical equipment all over, and beds for the wounded. Several beds were already occupied, with privacy screens drawn. Near one of the beds stood Ludwig, going over an x-ray with another patient. Upon spotting her and Yang, however, he shook his head.

 

_ “Nein,” _ he said, waving them away. “No visitors for  _ Fräulein  Schnee.” _

“Uh, I actually  _ do _ need some help, doc,” Yang said, holding up her hand.

Ludwig muttered something in German, rolling his eyes as he headed over. He ordered her to sit down, pulling over a rolling chair so he could examine her. His brow was furrowed, and he took note of the twinges of pain on Yang's face as he ran fingers over her knuckles. He pulled away for a second, jotting down a note.

“ _ Und _ how did zis happen?”

“I punched Freeman in the face.”

 

He looked up, cocking an eyebrow at Yang. Sliding back over, he scanned her hand with some sort of device. “ Nozing is broken, but in ze future, perhaps use less force vhen punching  _ Herr Freeman, ja? _ ”

Almost as if on cue, Freeman burst into the infirmary, holding his jaw. “She fuckin' hit me!” he declared, pointing an accusatory finger at Yang, and jumbling his words.

Ludwig sighed again, pausing for a moment as he shut his eyes and rubbed his temple. He headed over, examining Freeman with the same intensity he had done with Yang and scanned Freeman with his device, muttering again in German.

“Man, _fuck_ you,” Freeman muttered, still slurring his words. “Fucking broke my jaw!”

“Both of you are fine,”  Ludwig declared, waving them away like they were bugs. “Shtop being so dramatic  _ und _ take aspirin if ze pain does not cease.”

 

As Yang and Freeman began to head out, Pyrrha dared to step towards Ludwig, who glowered at her. “Um, Doctor, I was just wondering if you could give us an update on Weiss?”

He nodded pensively as he pushed his glasses up. “So far, she is recovering as expected. She should be back in ze field wizhin ze veek.” Once more, he waved them out, turning to some paperwork. “Now,  _ bitte, _ get out of here. I have ozzer patients, you know.”

 

Yang and Pyrrha made quick their escape out of the infirmary. Not much else they could do for Weiss now, but knowing she was fine helped. Maybe they could finally get some sort of rest and relaxation in the barracks. Pyrrha could finally reassemble her Dragunov while she was there.

 

Unfortunately, yet another confrontation awaited them there. Captain Rex waited for them at their barracks, his arms folded and a cross look on his face. They weren't so oblivious as to not know what he wanted. Yang and Pyrrha stood at attention, waiting for him to start speaking.

“Privates,” he said, nodding to each of them to acknowledge their presence. “I've just wrapped up a rather  _ interesting _ discussion with First Sergeant Killip. Would you like to know what he said to me?”

Neither wanted to say anything, and avoided his intense gaze. Pyrrha swallowed hard, hoping that this entire conversation could be over with already.

 

“He and I had a rather nice time discussing the  _ finer points _ of battlefield tactics, as well as strategies to avoid casualties on missions. Naturally, I disagreed with some points he made. I don't believe that either of you think this is the first time he and I have had a…  _ difference _ of opinion.” Captain Rex made sure to match eyes with them both at least once, ensuring they were paying attention. “Privates, I don't make a  _ habit _ of interacting with the First Sergeant. I would  _ highly _ recommend you don't, either. He's a dangerous man. Dangerous men get good soldiers like you and I  _ killed. _ ”

 

Before he could dismiss them, Alan came up, saluting as he handed a piece of paper to Rex. Confused, Rex returned the salute and accepted the paper. “What's this?”

“Dunno,” Alan said, shrugging. “Doc wanted me to hand it to ya.”

“Lieutenant Ludwig? Alright then, thank you, Sergeant.”

Alan nodded curtly, heading off to solitude once more. As Captain Rex unfolded the paper and read its contents, Pyrrha's stomach turned over. Was this about Yang and Pyrhha's encounter with Freeman?  It must have been, judging by his increasingly upset reaction.

 

“Private Xiao Long,” he said after an agonizingly long minute. “Would you mind explaining to me why you struck Corporal Freeman?”

“He said Weiss deserved to be shot, sir.”

Captain Rex's eyebrows danced in surprise. Clearly he wasn't expecting that sort of response. “ _ Did _ he now?”

Pyrrha cleared her throat. “I can attest to that, sir. He was very antagonistic to us.”

 

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Privates,  _ normally _ I would commend you for defending your friend when she couldn't do so herself. However, I can _ not _ commend a physical altercation with the Corporal. Both of you are off field duty for  three days .”

“What?” Yang asked. “Pyrrha didn't do anything wrong! Put it all on me, not her!”

“Private Nikos could have defused the situation before it got out of control. The blame is on all parties equally, so don't worry, the Corporal will be punished as well.” Rex dismissed them, heading off to do some paperwork to make the punishments official.

 

Like she had predicted, the day was already ruined, and it wasn't even past 10.


	11. The Night Will Always Win

The three days off of field duty was almost immediately followed up by little else to do in the interim. The Commander did not want to risk sending Menace 1-5 out without Weiss, for reasons mostly unknown to Pyrrha and Yang. However, Pyrrha was more than welcome to head out. She joined squads on all sorts of missions, usually returning not worse for wear.  However, it was impossible to ignore the increasing casualties.

 

The Memorial Wall gained new faces every day. So far, it hadn't been anyone that Pyrrha knew personally, but she didn't have to in order to understand their pain. She was not blind to the grief written on their faces as they mourned privately and publicly.  Occasionally, she saw glimpses of the funerals they held, but since she rarely knew the individuals involved, Pyrrha never dared step in.  Each day, the list of wounded and dead grew.

 

But, just as quickly as Weiss had been taken out of combat, she was back in when after the prescribed week was up, Ludwig allowed her to be released from the infirmary. Once again, Menace 1-5 was whole. It was a bittersweet reunion. Pyrrha knew that eventually, her time with the squad would again come to an end, but she held out some small hope that maybe they would allow Pyrrha to join them permanently.

 

As it turned out, that's almost exactly what was to happen. Captain Rex, impressed by reports from other squad leaders concerning her shooting and calmness under fire, requested Pyrrha for their next high-priority mission. It was the middle of the day, just after lunch, when Menace was called into the briefing room by Captain Rex.  Per the usual procedure, dossiers lined the table for each of them.

 

“Menace,” Captain Rex announced as he stood at the head of the room in front of a projector. “ This is the big one. Operation Hanging Garden has been handed down to us by the Commander, for which I am sure we are all grateful for.”

“Where the hell even is this place?” Freeman asked, trying to orient the map in all sorts of ways.

“Doctors Shen and Tygan have been examining the vial we recovered from the alien blacksite,” Captain Rex explained. “According to them, it gave them data that corresponded to these coordinates.”

Alan held up a photo of the facility itself, grumbling. “Aren't our cameras better than this? What the fuck…”

 

“Yes, I believe General O'Neill had a similar reaction. Something in the alien's technology is preventing our scans from getting a clearer picture of the area. We have no idea what this place is going to look like, or what kind of defenses they have. We'll insert under cover of night, and utilize stealth to get as close as possible to the facility.”

“Nikos covering our escape, then?” Alan asked, jerking his head to Pyrrha.

“No, actually,” Captain Rex said, smiling at her. “Private Nikos will be accompanying us on the ground. I assume this isn't an issue, Private?”

“No, sir,” Pyrrha said, returning the smile.  _ Finally! _

“Since we're on a strict recon mission,” he continued, dropping the smile. “I want to keep this tight. We won't have much room to maneuver. Close in, support each other, and we should make it out fine.”

 

Alan raised his hand. “Sir, not to be a negative Nancy, but Nikos and I are sort of particular to long-range combat. She's got the low-power, still want us  _ both _ close by?”

“Yes. Again, no intel on the enemy defense. Could be a platoon, could be more. Our orders are just to get in, take anything useful, and get out.”

The team nodded, and as Rex asked if anyone had any questions, they began to put away the dossiers. No questions today – they knew their mission. With relatively little intel, it was hard to have questions that could be answered. One by one, each of them grabbed their gear and loaded up, prepared to face once more the aliens.

 

* * *

 

 

The Skyranger took them past a city called Sevastapol. It was an old city according to the Russian and Ukrainian members of the  _ Avenger, _ and by their stories, it had suffered greatly. Once upon a time, it had been host to a massive resistance movement early in ADVENT's regime, a constant thorn in their side. Rather than try to acquiesce them, the aliens elected to simply wipe the city out and rebuild it. Pyrrha couldn't help but wonder. How much history, how many stories had been eliminated by the aliens? Did they raze cities in the name of progress, or because the population was too difficult to please?

 

Of course, the progress in itself was problematic. Tygan had told her once about the gene therapy clinics. It was an unfortunate feather in his cap – able to cure diseases once thought impossible to treat and improving the lives of millions, but also the direct cause of countless deaths. They never knew for certain how many people were contained within the little green vial they had recovered. If the war went on any longer, it might just be impossible to find out.

 

The Skyranger came to a halt, and once again they fast-roped down. The moon bounced off the snow-covered ground, providing an unexpected amount of light for their evening. It was late, very late by now, but the light made it almost seem like early evening.

“Dammit,” Captain Rex muttered. “Weather predicted no snow. When did this happen?”

“It is not too deep,” Ludwig commented. “Freshly fallen,  _ ja? _ ”

Rex ignored him, gesturing for Yang and Weiss to move forward. Once the pair had advanced far enough, Freeman and Ludwig followed, as Pyrrha, Alan and Rex made up the rear. Ludwig scanned the area with his GREMLIN, a small drone with a suite of technological devices made for either field medical work, or limited hacking. With a clearer picture of the surrounding area, Ludwig directed them to the left where a massive chasm could be seen. Spanning it were a pair of bridges, each looking rather unstable.

 

“Coming up on the bridge now,” Yang said, whispering into her radio. As she neared a rock for cover, Pyrrha took note of numerous bootprints in the snow, alongside what looked like drag marks. If the snow was as fresh  as Ludwig suggested, this group had been here recently.

“Got Viper tracks here,” Alan noted. “Ain't those things cold-blooded?”

_ “Nein,” _ Ludwig answered. “In my examination of zem vit Doktor Tygan, ve noted zey share reptilian features, but zeir blood is quite varm.”

Alan muttered something. “Eh, thanks, I guess.”

“Cut the chatter,” Rex reminded them.

 

From where she was, Pyrrha could see the bridge now. It was fairly close, at least two hundred meters away. Movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention away from it, and she brought her scope up to her eye as she checked the area. Three aliens. “Hostiles,” she reported. “Ten o'clock.”

“Yeah, I see 'em,” Alan said. “Two troopers, secto. Viper. Must be the same group.”

The “secto” was a Sectoid, a strange, pale and lanky creature with huge eyes, sharp teeth, and bizarre psychic powers. If Pyrrha didn't know any better, she would have thought it a new form of Grimm.

“What's their path look like?” Captain Rex asked. “Can we avoid them?”

To her right, she heard Alan shuffle, checking the area as he twisted his body and feet around. “Nah. Looks like their patrol takes them right between us and the bridge.”

 

“Ambush, then. Looks like our little recon mission is about to get loud.” Rex quickly and quietly ordered Pyrrha and Yang to set up near a larger rock that was between the bridge and their current position, halfway on the alien patrol route. Rex and Ludwig stayed at their position, while Yang, Alan and Freeman were at another rock closer to the bridge. Slowly, the sound of alien boots and the odd hissing of the Viper drew nearer.

“Steady,” Rex ordered. “Wait for them to get close.”

They were almost right on top of them. Pyrrha raised her rifle up, using the iron sights instead of her scope – too close to utilize it now.

“Menace, open fire.”

 

All at once, gunshots rang out, and completely unprepared for the assault, the two alien troopers fell. The Sectoid and Viper  broke for cover, with the Viper pausing for a moment to spew a glob of poisonous spit at Yang and Pyrrha. Thankfully, it missed entirely. The Sectoid dodged shots from Alan's rifle, ducking behind a tree and raising the dead troopers back to life. It moaned, not unlike the Lost, as it stood up once more, purple energy emanating from its head.

 

“No respite for the dead!” Rex shouted. “Kill that Sectoid!”

The Sectoid popped out of cover for a split second, pointing an elongated finger at her. Wisps of purple wafted off its head, and at once a wave of the bizarre energy hit her. She didn't know why, but all at once she felt stressed, off-balance, and unable to think straight. It was like every memory of Cinder had come back to her at once. Pyrrha had no other response than  _ panic _ , and she found her aim failing her, unable to take a shot as fear paralyzed her.

 

The sound of Yang's shotgun brought her out of the paranoia-induced anxiety, and just as quickly as the onset of panic froze her, it faded. The Sectoid lay against the ground, orange blood pouring out of it and pooling on the snow. The undead soldiers vomited orange blood of their own and crumpled over.

 

“Fucking pissant drongo!” Alan shouted, his chest soaking wet. What had happened to him?

A burst from Weiss's rifle eliminated the Viper, and it hissed for a final time as it splayed out on the ground. Immediately, Rex and Ludwig moved up, heading for the bridge.

“Go! Go! Go!” he shouted. “They heard those shots for sure! Go to the bridge!”

Pyrrha and Yang broke from their cover, regrouping with the squad. As if this wasn't enough, however,  mechanical clattering and the heavy stomps of something massive broke through the night. Even with the moon giving them light, they were unable to see the source of it.

“The hell is that noise?” Freeman asked, half to himself as they neared the bridge.

 

Freeman's question was answered when they stepped foot on the bridge, where a massive, lumbering machine stomped into view. It was blocky, angular, like many of ADVENT's buildings. The enormous bipedal robot continually scanned the area with some sort of red beam as it stopped at the end of the bridge, blocking all progress and posing a considerable threat.

“ _ HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” _ Freeman screamed, running to a nearby tree. “THAT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR!”

As the squad scrambled for any cover that looked solid enough to protect them from this machine, Shen tapped into their comms. “Be  _ careful. _ The aliens used this during their invasion to cut through Earth's armored forces like butter. It can chew up infantry just as easily!”

 

“Sectopod!” Alan shouted.

“How do we take it down?” Weiss asked.

“Focus all fire on it,” Rex called out. “That clanker is priority number one!”

Pyrrha peeked out from behind the rock she was hiding behind, aiming her rifle at the so-called Sectopod. She tried to find somewhere that looked weak to fire at it, maybe exploit a gap in the armor, but she couldn't find anything. In desperation, she fired a shot, but it didn't seem like it had much of an effect.

“Dammit!” Yang complained. “My bullets are just bouncing off this thing!”

 

“Fucking  _ horseshit!” _ Freeman yelled in turn. “Mine too! What the fuck is this thing made out of, carbon steel?”

Answers were fleeting, but the bullets that pinged off of the Sectopod were not. Shrugging off bullets left and right, it paused and  extended its legs even higher into the air, positively towering over the squad. The gunfire stopped momentarily as they marveled at this thing.

“Oh my god,” Freeman sobbed. “This is crazy in a box with a side order of fries!”

Drawing even more dismayed reactions,  the sectopod's top opened to reveal some sort of weapon. Pausing from its scanning routine, it seemed to lock itself into palce as three red dots appeared on the ground, right between Alan and Ludwig.

“Does anyone know what that thing's doing?” Weiss asked.

“ _ Turbolaser! _ ” Rex shouted. “Get out of its line of fire!”

 

Alan and Ludwig sprinted away, desperate to find somewhere that probably wouldn't be affected by the Sectopod's weapon. As soon as it had stopped, the gunfire came back in force as the squad provided cover for them emptying multiple magazines into the machine. Smoke began to pour out. Maybe they had finally hit something? Pyrrha couldn't tell. Seconds later, and as Rex ordered them to keep shooting, the Sectopod's turbolaser fired. The rocks that Alan and Ludwig were using for cover were simply gone, with a massive black crater replacing it.

 

“Alright,” Weiss said, loading a new magazine. “Now we know. It can't change what it's shooting at once it commits.”

“ _ Save it for the bloody report, Sheila!” _ Alan shouted.

Working quickly, Pyrrha inserted a fresh magazine, chambering a round and watching her allie's bullets hit the Sectopod. Before she could take her scope up to her eye, more enemies across the bridge – several stun lancers, troopers, and a mechanized unit – caught her attention. “Enemies across the bridge!”

“Goddammit!” Freeman yelled. “More of them?!?”

 

Ducking and reloading, Rex gesturing to Pyrrha and Alan. “Sergeant, Private, focus your fire on those reinforcements! We've almost got this clanker!”

Pyrrha centered her scope on a stun lancer that was crossing the bridge, charging with its electrified baton in an attack position behind him. One squeeze of the trigger later, and he was down. From her position across the bridge, the mechanical beeping of the ADVENT robot could be heard. Its massive, oversized rifle fired equally huge rounds their way, forcing everyone to take cover.  Pyrrha was about to take a shot at the mechanized unit when the Sectopod suddenly exploded, sending her aim all over the place as the shockwave shook her scope. Looking to the bridge, she watched the explosion fade away, with the bridge gone and most of the enemies on the other side retreating.

 

“Good job, squad,” Rex said, loading fresh magazines in. “Big clanker's down.”

Freeman stood up as the gunfire died down, looking out at the wrecked scene. “I guess we'll have to take the bridg e no w,” he said, until he pointedly looked at the missing element. “ _ I guess we'll have to take the bridge.” _

As Freeman groaned in frustration, Captain Rex and Ludwig conferred with one another. Rex had drawn something in the snow with his finger, and Ludwig was proposing some sort of tactical action and filling in more detail. Agreeing on a common course of action, the two officers stood up.

“Ze exercise vould be  _ gut _ for you,  _ Herr Freeman, _ ” Ludwig said, unslinging his rifle. “Ze ozzer bridge is to ze left,  _ fünfhundert Meter  so. Bewegung!” _

 

The walk to the next bridge – jog, more accurately – proved lonely. The aliens retreated, but they had not destroyed the other bridge across the gully. Cautiously, they approached and crossed the bridge, an eerie calm descending upon the area. As they reached the opposite end, the so-called alien “forge” facility came into view. It was massive, bulky, and seemed to go on forever. It had to have at least several stories inside it, and spanned an unimaginable distance. The front door was a simple ADVENT-style shutter door common in their architecture, with small half-walls and barriers providing defensive cover.

 

“Shall ve make our entrance zrough ze front?” Ludwig asked, checking the ammo in his rifle.

“Yes. Menace, lock and load. We're going in hot.” Rex took a handful of grenades and pulled the pins on them, throwing them to the door and ordering the squad to hold as they reloaded. Seconds later, they exploded, creating holes in the wall and making the door itself obsolete. They waited. ADVENT had not responded to their intrusion.

“I guess nobody's home,” Freeman commented.

Ignoring Freeman, Red edged closer to the ruined entrance. “I don't like it. Xiao Long, Schnee, Freeman, take point. Rest of you, fall in behind.”

 

The squad flooded in, turning on flashlights to illuminate the interior as the power had been knocked out by some unknown force. Maybe it was a defensive measure?

“Which way?” Yang asked, pointing her shotgun at various corners to check them.

“Left,” Rex answered as they moved past a receptionist's desk. “Keep your heads on a swivel. I don't like how quiet this place is.”

The walls were lined with pods of some sort, illuminated by strange red lights. Red was a typical ADVENT color, but there was just  _ so much _ of it here. It was almost oppressive.

“ Uh, Captain,” Tygan said, cutting into their comms. “Could you  aim your helmet camera to the pods on the wall?”

Rex obliged, shining a light onto them to reveal ADVENT soldiers inside. Pyrrha gasped as she jumped back, about to shoot, until she realized the soldier contained within wasn't moving. There were dozens of these along the walls – but  _ none _ of them were moving.

 

“What the fuck is this place?” Freeman muttered.

“First it's bodies,” Bradford commented, “now it's ADVENT. We always suspected they never  _ really _ recruited any humans, but… something tells me they didn't abduct  _ these _ bodies.”

“It looks more like a production facility,” Shen said. “Do you think this is where the alien forces come from?”

“Captain, if this is a production facility, there has to be some kind of central control room. See if you can't find it and disrupt their production,” Bradford ordered.

 

Without needing further instructions, the squad headed deeper into the lonely, abandoned alien building. Through each room, the lack of any sort of response troubled them.  Each one began to look the same, until they came into a storage room. A forklift stood in front of massive windows, revealing a room completely in white. Inside this room were pillars of computers, surrounding a platform that had another pod inside of it.

“What the hell is this?” Yang asked, her shotgun falling by her side.

“It looks like Kamino…” Rex said almost wistfully.

Bradford ordered them to check out the room. Cautiously, the squad breached and cleared, checking corners for hidden aliens. Finding none, Ludwig and Freeman focused on the pod on the platform. It looked like the others they had passed, but why would it be by itself in here? It didn't make sense.

 

“Zis pod is like ze vahn ve found ze Commander in,” Ludwig said, marveling at the construction as he examined it.

“Open it up, then,” Rex ordered.

As Ludwig opened the pod, steam hissed out of it as it unleashed something inside. From inside the pod fell a… person in some sort of suit? An alien? Some kind of robot? She couldn't tell. Either way, it was clearly freaking out the rest of the squad, save Yang and Weiss who were just as confused as she was.

 

“How can that be?” Bradford asked. “It's just like the one-”

“Carefully!” Tygan shouted. “Preserve the specimen at all costs!”

Already, Ludwig was rattling off orders to Freeman in German, probably instructions to carry it given how he was trying to lift the suit onto his back.

“I don't see why  _ I _ have to carry this thing,” Freeman complained.

“Because you don't have a  _ real job _ to do!” Ludwig chastised.

 

“Alright Menace,” Captain Rex said. “Evac is 500 meters due west, outside. Sergeant, Private Nikos, take to the roof, cover us for a while and then regroup on us when we make it halfway!”

“Got it, captain,” Alan said, heading up to the roof with Pyrrha.

From there, they both set up their rifles, watching alien transports fly in and drop new squads. Captain Rex had been right at the briefing that evening. There had to have been a platoon or more of enemy troops by now.

“Sight's steady, trigger's cold,” Alan said, finding a nice spot to set up.

 

Off in the distance, unusual screams could be heard. Was that coming from the aliens?

“I'm not expert in the matter,” Freeman said, his voice straining under the weight. “But I'm pretty sure that's the cries of the damned.”

“Ready up, Menace!” Captain Rex called. “Looks like our welcoming committee is a bit late!”

Pyrrha peered down her rifle's scope, spotting countless alien troopers and Mutons crossing the hills. Alan confirmed her sighting and relayed it to the squad, and together the two started firing. Rex ordered Freeman and Ludwig ahead, with Yang escorting to ensure that any close-in threats were eliminated quickly.

 

Pyrrha took overwatch in keeping threats away from their vanguard. Rifle fire got dangerously close more than a few times, but at the ranges the aliens were firing at, their shots missed by miles.  She lost track of her victims, but did keep a steady count of ammo. This time, she would not have an empty magazine at the wrong moment.

“Muton!” Alan called out. “Nikos! Nail that bludger, I'm reloading!”

She swung her scope over, watching Ludwig and Freeman trying to strap the so-called “package” to a stretcher, and under heavy fire while doing so.

“Vere is  _ unserer _ cover?!” Ludwig demanded, grunting as he adjusted straps.

Pyrrha's sights centered on the Muton, that had Ludwig in its sights. Before she could squeeze the trigger, the Muton fired first, sending a bolt of green energy out that hit Ludwig directly as the package began going up.

 

Ludwig let out an almost inhuman guttural scream as he dropped his rifle. The horrific noise that emanated from his mouth echoed across the plain.

“ _ Lieutenant!” _ Rex shouted, charging as fast as he could to reach him.

“Fuck!” Freeman shouted, taking cover near a tree stump.

“He's not moving!” Yang reported.

Pyrrha and Alan jumped off the roof, sprinting to catch up with the squad and take stock of the situation. Weiss and Yang had regrouped on Ludwig, keeping them covered as the offending Muton was killed. As she neared him, she saw Yang rummaging through Ludwig's medkit. Somehow, despite a massive hole in his chest, Ludwig was still breathing.

 

“I don't fucking know how to use his medkit!” Freeman yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Which one of these fucking things stops him from having a giant goddamn hole in his chest?!”

“Corporal!” Rex shouted, firing off rounds at aliens with his pistols. “Get the Lieutenant on a stretcher! Xiao Long! Fall back and help Freeman!”

“How bad is it?” Pyrrha asked, slinging her Dragunov so she could help.

Freeman shook his head. “You could fucking dive through his chest, what do you  _ think? _ ” Freeman was panicking. She could tell just by his voice.

 

Despite the withering fire, Freeman and Yang managed to get Ludwig on the stretcher, and soon the squad evacuated as well. Bullets bounced off the Skyranger as they departed. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, it seemed. Ludwig was still alive, but it didn't look like he would be long for this world.

“Someone update me,” Rex said. “Can we do anything  at all for  him?”

Freeman shrugged his shoulders. “I… I don't know, man, if I knew what any of these fucking needles  _ did, _ yeah, but he never wanted to tell  _ me _ anything, and Tygan was always so busy-”

“Alright, spare me the exposition there, Corporal.”

 

Rex swore in a language Pyrrha didn't recognize, before ransacking his way through Ludwig's medkit. As he did so, he ordered Pyrrha to keep an eye on Ludwig's face, asking her to talk to him or slap his face if it looked like he was losing consciousness. For a moment, Pyrrha and Ludwig locked eyes. She could tell he knew he was dying. He tried to gasp for air, but nothing came out.

“I don't know if he'll make it, Captain,” Pyrrha said, splitting her attention between him and Ludwig.

Ignoring her, Rex handed Freeman a needle with some kind of liquid in it. “Corporal, give this to him. It's got to be some kind of medicine.”

“I… I don't know much medical German,” Freeman admitted. “What if-”

“ _ Do it anyway!” _

 

Freeman took a sharp breath in before turning back to Ludwig. The dying man weakly shook his head, mouthing something. Was he trying to tell Freeman not to waste medical supplies? Or that he had the wrong needle? Pyrrha couldn't tell. “I need a vein,” Freeman said. “Do any of you know how to find one?” Looking around, Freeman realized nobody could claim that knowledge. “ _ Shit.” _

 

Pyrrha looked back at Ludwig's face. As Freeman injected the needle, Ludwig had stopped breathing. His eyes stared at the ceiling, glazed over. His jaw was agape in a permanent, silent scream of pain. She tried to get Freeman's attention, but he had already emptied the needle into Ludwig's dead body.

“The fuck,” Freeman muttered, not comprehending what was going on. “It's not doing jack! What the fuck?!”

“Freeman,” Pyrrha said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “He's gone.”

 

Rex tore his helmet off, throwing it across the Skyranger as he swore a blue streak and pacing back and forth.

“Did… did I put the wrong shit in?” Freeman asked meekly, staring at Ludwig's lifeless body.

“No, Corporal,” Rex said, seething with anger. “Don't blame yourself. I should have known everything about his kit.”

Weiss stood up, shaking her head. “You can't blame yourself  _ either, _ sir. Lieutenant Ludwig didn't let  _ anyone _ near his work, how could you  know ?”

 

Alan sighed, pulling his hat over his eyes. “Yeah, keep tellin' yourself that, ankle-biter. Captain's got a point. Shoulda known. Shoulda been trained.”

“Captain,” Pyrrha said, standing up as well. “Nobody could have predicted this. We didn't know they would arrive in such numbers.”

Captain Rex lowered his head to stare at the floor, a long, exasperated sigh escaping his lips. “No. We  _ did _ know, Private.  _ I  _ ordered them to move forward. We didn't have that area locked down. It was my call, and  _ my call _ alone, that killed Lieutenant Ludwig.”

Slowly, Captain Rex sat down, staring at his reflection as if that would give him some sort of closure. Freeman sat in shock, trying to work through what had just happened in his mind. Like before, Alan hid behind his aviators and hat, avoiding any eye contact. Weiss, Yang and Pyrrha could only find what little solace they had in each other during the long, quiet ride back to the  _ Avenger. _


	12. Scattered Black and Whites

Lieutenant Ludwig's body was carried off the Skyranger first, followed by their stolen piece of ADVENT tech. Crestfallen faces dotted the barracks as their fallen comrade was wheeled past them with Menace 1-5 behind him, like some grim parade. Straight to the morgue for them, partially to store Ludwig's body, and also to find room to host their “package.” Inside the morgue, colored a dreadful gray and rank with the smell of alien blood, Tygan was busy at work on an alien autopsy. He scarcely looked up as the doors opened, elbow-deep in some new alien.

 

“Ah, Doctor Ludwig, I'm glad you've arrived.” He turned around, wiping blood off his smock. “I… _oh no._ ”

Rex put his helmet on a nearby table, slowly walking towards Tygan. “I'm sorry, Doctor,” he said. “We tried to save him. We really did.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Tygan said, pulling off the gloves he was using and discarding them. “And… please, spare me the details. I will know enough when I… _prepare_ him for the funeral.”

Tygan's nose twitched, and he looked to the floor as he scratched the back of his head. Alan and Freeman wheeled over the package recovered from the ADVENT facility as well, while Yang, Pyrrha and Weiss looked on, unable to do anything. Tygan looked over to it, clearing his throat.

“This is the stasis suit you recovered? It's in excellent condition, considering… well.”

 

Rex sighed, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Right. Well Doctor, we should get this to the Shadow Chamber. I'd like to be updated about Ludwig's… final arrangements, if possible.”

“Yes, I believe I can do that. I should be getting back to work as well. Thank you, Captain, for coming down. Most men just send a subordinate. I'm… not sure if the good Doctor had many _friends_ , but I can see several here.”

Pyrrha felt a lump in her throat. Why was she suddenly so overcome with grief? Ludwig had never much been her friend, more like an acquaintance at best. Rex muttered a half-heard acknowledgment, moving out with the squad to put the stasis suit in its place.

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later, Ludwig's funeral was held. It was depressing, perhaps more so than usual, since only a handful of people bothered to attend. What remained of Menace 1-5 was present. The Commander paid her respects, but had to leave shortly after. Tygan, Bradford, Shen were there. First Sergeant Killip attended. Captain Price and Ana both made it. Someone they only knew as Holzmann had appeared. There was little time for formality – each soldier appeared in their typical uniforms.

 

The somber affair began with Bradford opening the floor to anyone who wished to say a few words in the Lieutenant's memory. Drinks had been poured and handed out in his name, a lager from Ludwig's home region of Hesse, according to Bradford. After a few seconds, Alan took a step forward, having discarded his hat and aviators for the event.

“Doc was one hell of a fighter,” he said. “Pretty damn weird if ya caught him at the wrong time, but he knew his stuff. Gonna miss ya, Doc.”

Price was up next, already puffing away on a cigar. “Alexandr was never the guy who'd make you laugh, but that was alright. He'd always get you patched up no problem. We have Dr. Tygan to thank for giving him an outlet for his… _creative_ side. Hope you can see Mikhail where you are, mate.”

 

Of course, Dr. Tygan raised a glass. “In another time, Dr. Ludwig would have been considered a genius. Unfortunately, the aliens would rather make an enemy of him, and idle hands are Dr. Ludwig's playthings. I'll long again for the chance to discuss xenobiology with the good Doctor. May he find peace.”

Ana prayed for his soul in Arabic, insisting that even if Ludwig didn't believe in any deities, his soul deserved _something._ Freeman, Killip and Holzmann remained quiet, silently paying their respects. Yang didn't feel like she had the place to even say anything, and suspected Weiss and Pyrrha felt the same.

 

And then, Captain Rex stepped forward.

 

Every inch of him looked exhausted. From his weary, bag-filled eyes to his low, defeated shoulders, even just the way he let out a quiet sigh told them he was _tired._ “I promised myself when I came here that I would never lose a single man. Two years I kept that promise. Lieutenant Ludwig was one of the best men I've ever had the pleasure of fighting with. In all of my years of fighting, very rarely have I met a man of the Lieutenant's caliber.

 

I've watched hundreds of my brothers die. Maybe it's even the _thousands,_ I barely even know anymore. Each one has been a stab in my heart. But you, _ner vod?_ Your death? I don't have anywhere left to wound. I'd do anything to have you back for one more mission, Lieutenant. For you, I'm going to do everything I can to bring these heartless monsters down.”

 

The room fell silent. With few others seeing fit to give more words following Captain Rex's speech, Central Officer Bradford poured out a parting shot, and set it next to Ludwig's portrait.

“This one's for you, Lieutenant,” he said. “Rest easy. You've earned it.”

They saluted Ludwig, even the Captains, an honorary one for all the work he had done and his sacrifice.

 

* * *

 

 

Not much else could be done for Ludwig. Per his wishes, he was cremated, and his ashes spread over Germany as they moved to their next mission. Yang, Weiss and Pyrrha returned to the barracks, each one trying to find words for what had just happened.

“This sucks,” Yang finally said.

Weiss was curled up into a ball, her eyes shut. “I don't get it. I barely even talked to him, unless he wanted to teach me German. Why am I so depressed?”

“I'm… surprised so few people showed up. I thought he would have had more at his funeral,” Pyrrha confessed. “Did he really matter that little to the people on this ship?”

Yang shrugged. “You told me you didn't know why they kept him around, right, Weiss?”

 

Weiss slowly nodded, getting out of her ball of misery. “I did, didn't I? I think… I think if I knew, I wouldn't have said those things.”

Yang sighed, letting her head hit the pillow. Maybe sleep would overtake her, and she could get away from all this for a while. Weiss and Pyrrha didn't say anything else. Either way, it was fine by Yang. The less time she had to spend dwelling on the harsh reality of dying while fighting these aliens, the better.

 

* * *

 

 

No.

 

No no no _no no no no._

 

Not again.

 

Why the _fuck_ was she back at Beacon? Why had she been reminded of this terrible place? Yang's chest was tight as he breath ran short, trying to find the logic. The strange alien languages echoed across Beacon's demolished halls and broken buildings. She could see their tell-tale rifles firing off hellish bursts. Above everything else, she could hear the screams. Human. Faunus. Alien. The fires were still raging. Yang could see shadows of the aliens running across the campus, wreaking havoc wherever they went.

 

“ _Yang!”_ _Ruby. No._ She broke into a sprint, desperately trying to find the source of her sister's voice as Ruby called out for her. She suddenly noticed the shotgun in her hand. No more Ember Celica. Yang checked every corner, her eyes darting across the scene. Where the _fuck_ was Ruby? Why hadn't she found her yet? She felt tears forming on her eyes that rolled down her face, her fear mixing with the unchecked rage growing inside her.

 

She kicked down a door, but it wasn't a door that belonged to Beacon. Yang was back in Greece, but like Beacon it too was on fire. ADVENT was still here. Green, red, and purple all mixed, a hellish rainbow of color that only spelled doom. Through all the color, she heard something all too familiar.

 

The report of Ruby's rifle.

 

Yang charged straight for it, breaking down walls like they were made of cardboard. She found herself in the square that they had recovered Pyrrha from. Except this time, Ruby was the one under siege. She was surrounded by too many troopers to count, a full squad of Mutons, and enough sectoids to swarm any Grimm she knew back home.

 

There was nothing else she could do. Yang started firing, knocking down troopers and sectoids like they were bowling pins, clearing a path to Ruby. She was unaware Yang was right behind her, busy trying to get at least some of them, but it looked like her Dust wasn't having much of an effect. Yang could see her now, she was so close. Almost there. Just one more squad. A massive, oversized Muton jumped in front of her path, roaring as it smacked its humongous rifle. Yang felt the anger in her rising, and shouldered her shotgun one more time, squeezing the trigger.

 

_Click._

 

The bolt slammed forward, but with nothing to fire it was just dead weight. Yang gasped, threw away the empty magazine and ripped open her pouch to get a new one. The only problem was there _wasn't_ another one. She had run out of ammo. The Muton stared at her with its glowing yellow eyes, and wound back to utilize its bayonet. Yang found herself impaled on its oversized, serrated blade, lifted into the air as the Muton followed through on its swing.

 

She was up in the air and alive long enough to watch Adam hack Ruby to pieces.

 

* * *

 

 

Yang's entire body jumped as the stupid woolen blanket went flying, and she gasped for air. _Fucking goddammit, not again._ Yang clutched her head, hoping that grounding herself in reality would help her fear go away. She checked herself just to make sure – yup, she was all there. No new holes. No giant Muton trying to kill her.

 

No Ruby.

 

She looked around. Nobody had seen what had happened. At least she could be thankful for that. Yang grabbed the blanket off the floor and let herself fall back on the bed, closing her eyes and sighing. Why the fuck was she like this? What cruel twist of fate had been put upon her that she had to endure these endless nightmares?

 

Why couldn't she just _go home_ already?

 

* * *

 

 

Menace's duties in the following days amounted to a lot of garrison duty, helping protect the _Avenger_ and occasionally covering someone's retreat with the help of the Skyranger. But now, Lieutenant Ludwig's death left a hole in their chain of command, an issue that had to be rectified. Alan was promoted up to Lieutenant, and Freeman to Sergeant. Alan's promotion was not a surprise to Yang, Weiss and Pyrrha, but each of them were surprised Freeman would be trusted with much of anything.

 

It was a good thing, Yang reasoned. She used to think Alan was a jerk, but learned pretty quickly that he was fine as long as you left him alone and didn't touch his rifle. No news came out about whether Menace 1-5 would get a new squadmember, though. If only because they worked so well together, Weiss and Yang continually begged Rex to ask for Pyrrha. His answers remained noncommittal, though, until he had all three of them ordered into the briefing room.

 

Unlike what happened with most missions, the room was devoid of any maps, dossiers, or other information that would clue them in on where they'd be fighting. Captain Price was in the room already, alongside Commander Okorie. What was _she_ doing there?

“Have a seat, ladies,” Price said, gesturing to the empty chairs. As they took the chairs, Rex, Price and Commander Okorie took seats as well.

“I have been reading over all of your interviews from when we first brought you three on board,” Commander Okorie said, clasping her hands in front of her. “You all mention something called 'semblance' at one point or another. Can you explain this for me?”

 

Yang, Weiss and Pyrrha exchanged glances, until Weiss decided to speak for all of them. “Semblance is, in a manner of speaking, an innate and personal power unique to each individual… unless, of course, it's hereditary like mine is.”

Commander Okorie nodded, taking a quick note. “Other than _that,_ what can you _do_ with it? Anything?”

“It depends,” Pyrrha chimed in. “I could manipulate metal.”

“Glyphs were part of my family's Semblance, as well as summoning foes we've defeated before,” Weiss explained.

 

Slowly, Price, Rex and Okorie looked to Yang expectantly. “Well?” she asked. “These semblances are innate to all, correct? What is yours, Xiao Long?”

“Uh, well,” Yang said, smiling. “It doesn't sound as cool compared to Weiss and Pyrrha's, but… I basically take whatever hits come and me and throw them back twice as hard.”

The Commander nodded again, jotting down yet another note. She looked to Price, who along with Rex, nodded sharply. What was going on? Why had she decided to revisit this now? Either way, it looked like their silent conference came to a conclusion. Commander Okorie stood up and walked over to Pyrrha, handing her a pair of small golden insignia.

 

“First of all,” she said as Pyrrha took the insignia in her hands. “Congratulations on your promotion, Corporal.”

Pyrrha's confusion couldn't have been more apparent as her eyes went wide. She stared at the corporal tabs, trying to understand why she had been chosen. “I… for me? Why, Commander? Weiss and Yang deserve it much more than I do.”

“Menace needs a new Corporal, and I think you're an excellent fit for the job, Nikos. Now, secondly, I think we would like to make you three an offer. If you all would follow me.”

Price and Rex stood up as the Commander walked out of the room, and soon Yang, Weiss and Pyrrha fell in behind them, each marveling at Pyrrha's new tabs.

 

“This is kickass,” Yang said quietly. “They finally trust us!”

“They trust _Pyrrha_ ,” Weiss reminded her. “But, congratulations. I'm sure you'll do great.”

Price glanced behind him at the trio, causing them to stop talking in case he overheard them. Their path through the _Avenger_ led them down a maintenance hall that few had ever taken, and it showed. The harsh red work lights buzzed as they walked past them, and the smell of mechanical fluids, oil, and grease mixed in an extremely offensive odor. Random tools were lying around, and the narrow hallways were crammed full of alien machinery, tubes, pipes, and strange consoles that had alien writing on them.

 

The twisting and bending hallways gave way to a room with four chambers in it. Each one hosted a bed, a private bathroom, and a small table with a lamp on it situated next to the bed. Cool purple lights reflected off the glass in the chambers, as bright white lights illuminated each one. Monitors and devices were attached to the doors, showing signs of… _something._ Inside one of them stood a woman with red hair that stuck up, almost as if she were a lit match. She eyed them cautiously, looking down on them as she frowned.

 

“This is the Psionic Chamber,” Commander Okorie said, turning to gesture to the room. “The alien psionic network is one of the most potent weapons they have, and now, _we_ can harness it.”

“ _If_ what you ladies told us about your Semblances is true,” Price said, lighting a cigar, “then you should be able to unlock it here. Won't be easy, or quick. We can't ever predict how long it takes someone to get out once they walk in. Could be weeks, could be months.”

As they looked around, half in wonder, half in amazement, the Commander pointed to the woman in isolation. “That is Moira O'Deorain. She has been in this chamber for _seven months_ now. We still don't know if she's ready to come out.”

“Ladies,” Rex said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Everything we have asked of you since you joined has been an _order._ This is not an order. This is an _offer._ ”

 

Yang, Weiss and Pyrrha once again exchanged looks, but this time it was more mingled concern and hope. They had a chance to get back the same thing they had on Remnant, put themselves on an equal playing field with the aliens for once. Yang didn't know what Weiss and Pyrrha were thinking, but she couldn't get the _seven months_ that the Commander cited out of her head. Would she spend that long in there? Longer? Would this even help her get back home? Yang wasn't sure about Weiss and Pyrrha, but for her, it was worth it.

 

Price broke the three out of their thoughts. “It's a tough call, deciding whether to devote yourself to training this long. But, it's your choice alone, ladies. Nobody is ordering you to do this. If you're up for it, all you have to do is step in front of a chamber and we'll take it from there.”

“I will give you five minutes to decide,” Commander Okorie said, heading out of the chamber. Price and Rex both took seats on nearby crates, waiting for them to make a decision.

Yang looked over to Moira, who had by now elected to ignore them. She created unusual yellow and purple orbs as if it were as natural as breathing, watching them bounce off the walls of her chamber and disappear as they lost energy. She looked like she had her powers all under control. Why was Moira still in there?

 

Weiss straightened herself up, almost as if trying to present herself for a ball. She gracefully walked over to a chamber and stood in front of it, performing an about-face to nod once to their captains. Well, hell, if Weiss thought it was worth it, maybe it would be. Yang headed over to a chamber of her own, turning back to see all eyes look to Pyrrha. She stared at the ground, still clutching her new rank in her hands. Didn't she want her Semblance back?

 

After what felt like hours, Pyrrha also took up residence in front of a chamber, moving quickly as if the floor was on fire. Price extinguished his cigar, and he and Rex took up their familiar authoritative positions. Engineers were called over, with Price explaining to the three that total isolation was necessary. The only people they'd be able to talk to would be the engineers assigned to their “pods.” Apparently, it was crucial to the operation.

 

The engineers fiddled with their pods, changing parameters and preparing them for their entry. After the all-clear was given, the doors were opened, and each woman was allowed to step in. Yang's slid shut with a smooth _hiss,_ and immediately Yang was overcome with just how _quiet_ it was. The banging pipes, electronic beeping of computers, and the sound of the _Avenger's_ air systems flowing air were just gone _._ Every move she made was amplified by a million. Even her breathing seemed loud. Weiss and Pyrrha seemed to be reacting the same way.

 

“Don't worry,” the chief engineer said over an intercom. “It's normal to suffer from some level of sensory overload when first stepping in.”

Yang took stock of the room, now that she could more easily access the things within. Other than some clearly outdated magazines, a generic change of sleeping clothes, and a couple thick books with icons she didn't recognize, the place was barren. They would have to take a few days to acclimatize to the Psionic chamber, and from there, they would perform basic tests. From there… who knew? Yang would have to figure that part out on her own.

 

She settled in for her first night in the Psionic Chamber, looking at Moira across from her. The woman smirked, waving at her. She didn't know what, but something about Moira unnerved her. Maybe it was the low, inconsistent hum that made her head pound each time it came on. They said this was the result of something called Elerium, whatever that was. Maybe sleep would help out.


	13. Chamber of Reflections

The first round of tests were easy. Simple cardio. A memory test. Baseline strength measurement. The engineers had told her to “reflect on her position” and aim to “unlock what was within”, whatever the hell _that_ meant. The solitude was crippling. They had nothing to write with. The books were filled with all sorts of things that made little sense, but in the end Yang decided they were probably religious texts of some sort. If she read them over, maybe it would become clearer to her.

 

But she wasn't in here to read about gods and parables. She was in here to learn how to get her Semblance back. Yang thought at first it'd be easy. She didn't expect them to mentally assault her each day. Bizarre alien images flashed through her mind, and she saw things that should have been impossible. In each attack, memories of Beacon haunted her, overwhelming her thoughts until all she could see was Blake running away, carrying Yang's missing arm with her.

 

It didn't work. Nothing did. Each time they tried to replicate Yang's abilities on Remnant, nothing happened. There was no change. After two weeks, Weiss and Pyrrha seemed to be moving along well. Weiss had taken to putting cups of tea on a small black glyph she could summon when she relaxed. She saw Pyrrha deftly move disabled batons out of her way. So why the hell was Yang the only one behind?

 

Eventually, one of the engineers got the idea to actually give her something to focus her energy _on_ rather than just assailing her with nightmares every day. So, they rigged up a GREMLIN with a small gun, loaded with non-lethal plastic pellets. It couldn't kill her, but it stung like hell to get shot by it. It was _perfect._

 

Every ounce of anger she had kept in, every tear he had shed since losing Blake, every setback that reminded her she wasn't home anymore came flying out. With each plastic pellet she took, she was able to refocus it into her fists. Each time she took a hit, Yang managed to knock back twice as hard. Eventually, she broke the GREMLIN with her punching, and it had to be replaced by a heavily neutered ADVENT mech they had recovered.

 

In between the continued nightmares that they persisted on subjecting to her, Yang sparred with the ADVENT mech. The psychologists said each time she fought, each time she endured another nightmare of unimaginable cruelty, she grew stronger. If she kept it up, she'd be able to walk out of here stronger than ever.

 

The mech wasn't just ADVENT anymore. It began to represent Adam. It became that night at Beacon. It transformed into a tangible wedge between her and Blake. Yang rationalized that Blake hadn't run away because she was afraid – she had run away because otherwise, this thing would have killed her. It was the only thing that made sense. Yang was just defending her friend.

 

She scarcely noticed that Moira, Weiss and Pyrrha had left in between her training sessions. By the time the engineers had declared she was cleared to be released, she was the only one left. The door slid open, and just like when she had stepped in, the noise of the outside overwhelmed her. She'd have to get used to this again.

 

Yang returned to Menace triumphant, and immediately briefed by Captain Rex. The first order of business, was she alright, was settled quickly. Yang, Weiss and Pyrrha had all made it out of the Psionic Chambers with their personalities intact and their new powers ready to be used. The second item on his agenda was updating her on new orders from the Commander. While she had been in the Psionic Chamber, Shen and Tygan had successfully cracked the encryption on the Codex. They had an outstanding order – use a new and improved Skulljack on the Codex.

 

With her debrief over, Yang was allowed to head back to the barracks finally. There, she met back up with Weiss and Pyrrha, immediately embracing them in a hug.

“We did it,” Yang said, practically strangling her friends in joy. “We really fucking did it!”

“I think we're close,” Weiss said, managing to wrangle herself out of Yang's grasp. “I heard General O'Neill talking to Tygan while you two were in there. He thinks they might be close to a breakthrough.”

From behind and above came a chuckle, not one they were familiar with. Yang looked up – Moira was there, looking down on them. “How uncouth. And to think you represent the latest generation of warriors out of the Think Tank.” _Strange._ Her accent sounded just like Engberg's. Was she from Ireland too?

 

“What's _that_ mean? You got a problem with us?” Yang clenched her fists, feeling pumped up from the Psionic Chamber.

Moira smirked, gracefully slipping off her bunk, standing a foot taller than any of them. “I've observed you ladies for quite some time. Fascinating subjects, if I say so myself.” She cast an inquisitive eye, and a creepy smile at Pyrrha. “ _You_ especially pique my interest. I must know more about you.”

“I'm not something to be _examined,_ ” Pyrrha said, folding her arms and frowning.

“Wait,” Weiss asked. “You said 'think tank'. What is that?”

 

Moira's smile faded, replaced by a stern, authoritarian look. “The chambers we were in not too long ago. Unless, of course, you already cleared your mind of such a place? It wouldn't be the first time that happened.”

In a flash, Moira disappeared, then reemerged on her bunk, lazily flipping though a book. The title was written in a language Yang couldn't decipher, but it looked so familiar as well. “How did-”

“You ask too many questions,” Moira cut in. “I only seek answers.”

 

“Squad!” Captain Rex called, rolling in with Freeman and Alan right behind him. “Gear up! We're responding to a priority one mission. Sergeant O'Deorain, I understand you're to join us on this one?”

Why the hell was she joining them? It didn't make sense. Yang narrowed her eyes at Moira, but she didn't seem to care. Moira smiled, putting the book down and slinging her rifle across her back.

“Yes, thank you again for the opportunity, Captain,” she said.

“Don't thank me yet,” Captain Rex replied. “Thank whoever gave you clearance for this.”

As they headed to the Skyranger, Yang, Weiss and Pyrrha made up the rear, with Moira right behind Yang. She leaned down close to Yang's ear, her voice barely registering above a whisper. “How _wonderful_ it will be to see you three in combat. It's been a while since I've been in the field.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was soon revealed that their priority one mission concerned a resistance hideout. ADVENT had recently discovered its location, and had sent down what Bradford called a “retaliation squad” to clear out the camp entirely. As the Skyranger neared the resistance camp, Yang could see fires raging unchecked across buildings and trees. The sky had turned orange from the embers as they scattered away to the air, reminding Yang even more of Beacon and its fall.

 

The memories only got worse when they landed. The echoing screams mixed with alien rifle fire, and the desperate please for help were overshadowed by the sound of the aliens speaking to each other. Shadows on the wall told tales of people trying to run away, only to be cut down by Muton bayonets. A father knelt over his bleeding son, ignorant to the alien trooper that pointed its rifle at his head and pulled the trigger.

“My god,” Yang said, gripping her shotgun tight. “This is _murder._ ”

“You're damn right it is,” Captain Rex said grimly. “Spread out, ten meter spread. Lieutenant, Corporal, find yourselves a building that looks solid and get on overwatch.”

“On it, Captain,” Alan replied, heading off with Pyrrha to a nearby brick building.

 

“ _Beannachtaí na Feile Pádraig,”_ Moira said, drawing confused looks from Yang and Weiss.

“What's _that_ mean?” Yang asked, not willing to risk this strange woman as far as she could throw her.

“She's wishing us good luck, Privates,” Rex clarified. “Come on, keep up the pace.”

Menace 1-5 moved through the rubble and remains of the alien assault, stepping over bodies that had been hit by the aliens. The iron smell of blood mixed with the ashen remains of the fires that still raged, offending Yang's nose.

 

“Captain,” Alan reported. “ADVENT tracked the Skyranger. Can't tell how many with all this smoke, but I'd reckon there's at least two squads heading your way.”

“Understood, Lieutenant,” Rex said, sounding almost gleeful under his helmet. “Time for some fun, Menace.

 

Yang and Weiss charged forward, acting as a temporary vanguard for Rex, Moira and Freeman. The Sectoid spotted them, pointing a long bony finger at the pair and screeching. Alien rifle fire tracked them on their way to cover, a half-broken wall that somehow was still standing. She found her heart beating a million times a second as she crouched behind the wall. Did she have time to take a quick shot? It was impossible to tell. _Focus, Yang._ She took a deep breath, peeking out from the wall. No rifles pointed at her – yet – but they were still firing as fast as possible at Menace. From beyond the smoke, Yang could see the outline of two Mutons, joined by a Sectoid and at least a full squad of troopers. As their enemies came forth to meet them, though, she could see they were not what they appeared to be at first. For one, it was not two Mutons. It was _one_ Muton and a bizarre beast that looked markedly similar to a Muton.

 

It stood taller than the Muton, and instead of armor it was just a mass of bulging muscle, it jaw stretched out in a seemingly impossible manner diagonally. It didn't even carry a weapon, though with its muscles, it probably didn't _need_ one.

“Oh, what the _fuck?!”_ Freeman shouted. “What is that?!”

“That must be what the resistance operatives called a Berserker,” Bradford answered, once again interjecting into their comms. “They said it can't do much at a distance, but don't get too close.”

Yang watched the Berserker roar, pounding the ground with its massive fists. She checked her magazine – full of ammo, and ready to go. _Perfect._ Yang popped out of cover for a split second, checking her surroundings. Bullets cracked past her head, reminding her just how lethal this world was.

“Hey, Weiss, cover me, I'm going in.”

“Wait, _what?”_ Weiss asked. “Didn't you hear Bradford?”

Yang smiled, winking at Weiss. “Yeah, I did.”

 

She charged forward, and within seconds the troopers and Muton were suppressed by sniper fire and Weiss's shots. The Sectoid ignored her, preferring to focus on raising dead civilians to serve as psionic zombies. With room to maneuver, Yang made a beeline right for the Berserker, dodging its undisciplined swings as it tried to hit her, and pouring buckshot into it. It unleashed a horrible screech before smacking her away with a massive hand. The hit sent Yang into the brick building, and she lost her shotgun.

 

_Fuck._

 

Hitting the brick wall hurt more than she expected. Groaning, Yang picked herself off the ground, feeling her muscles tense up. This wouldn't have been _nearly_ this bad on Remnant. Yang swung her head around, trying to find her shotgun. Not now, not when this thing was here. As she looked up, she saw the Berserker standing over her, fists clenched, and strange yellow-green mist coming out of it as it drooled. Yang desperately wanted to move, do _something,_ but the pain and fear-induced paralysis made it impossible. _I'm sorry, Ruby,_ Yang thought.

 

It started to swing to pummel her into the ground, throwing its massive fists up in an overhand swing. _That's it._ Opportunity. Quick reflexes allowed Yang to counterattack, delivering a punch right to the Berserker's gut. It went flying, nailing a nearby tree and crumpling up on the ground. Still shaking, Yang picked herself up, scrambling to get her shotgun back.

“Private Xiao Long!” Rex called “Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed, or is this a new hobby of yours?”

“It's dead, isn't it?” Yang asked.

Sniper fire began to fill the air again, this time heading for the Sectoid and its psionic zombies.

“Not quite, kid,” Alan muttered. “Maybe you oughta go up and punch it again, seemed to help last time.”

 

Moira walked over, rolling her eyes. “No need to mess about.” She fired three shots in quick succession into the Berserker's skull, killing it for good, it seemed. “I hope we recover this body. I very much would like to examine it.”

“We might wanna get a move on, Captain,” Alan said. “I'm seeing a lot of ADVENT on my scope up ahead.”

Moira stepped off, cackling evilly as she pushed forward, disappearing and then reappearing about twenty meters ahead of them. Turning to face the squad, she mockingly called for them to catch up.

“How the fuck does she _do_ that?” Freeman wondered aloud.

 

ADVENT was clearly out in force today. Officers and troopers alike ran about, slaughtering civilians for the simple crime of existing. Only being shot at by Menace 1-5 seemed to give them pause to do something else. It all seemed too easy to Yang. This was supposed to be the elite of the aliens. What was going on?

 

“What the fuck is this Peter Pan shit?” Freeman asked, pointing to an all-black, humanoid enemy that looked strangely enough like a Codex. The enemy was oddly reflective, with green highlights within the creases of its armor.

“New form of Codex, maybe?” Weiss asked.

Further speculation couldn't be added – it immediately collapsed into a pool, “flowing” along the ground as it went straight for Freeman. It enveloped him, and then all at once released. From Freeman's collapsed body came a digitalized green and black form of him, with the first enemy reconstituting itself next to him.

 

“Well, hell, that's a new one,” Alan muttered over the radio.

“Shoot that thing!” Rex ordered, already opening fire on the bizarre enemy. Just as soon as the bullets went its way, it disappeared into the pool again, and the Freeman doppelganger broke for cover, firing at them as it did so. Yang charged in after it, dodging the fake Freeman's shots. The thing coalesced again, becoming tangible once more. Yang ducked under its plasma rifle's shot, and leveled her shotgun at it. One, two, three shots, and the small bits it was made out of exploded, scattering as it disintegrated. Yang turned back to see the copy of Freeman disappear as well, with the man himself groggily getting up.

 

“Ugh, what happened?” he asked. “Did I get hit by a truck?”

“Sadly, no,” Alan muttered.

The gunfire began to die down as the last aliens were eliminated, irrespective of the new enemy's temporary seizure of Freeman. Who knew how long they had been fighting over this place? The piles of dead bodies gave her an answer – far too long. They were too slow.

“Good job, Menace,” Rex said as he holstered his weapons. “We saved a lot of people today.”

“Not enough,” she said quietly.

 

The area secured, Menace 1-5 turned to assisting the civilians, rounding them up as best as possible, and administering medical aid to those they could. Yang moved over to a guy who cowered in the corner, his long black hair done up in a ponytail. She offered her hand out to him to help him up, but he just stared at her. She couldn't place it, but something was just… _off_ about this guy.

 

Without warning, his neck cracked back as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. A disgusting slurping sound consumed the air as his skin seemed to melt away. His body expanded until nothing but a mud-like creature stood in front of Yang, staring at her with blood-red eyes.

 

“MONKEY ON A STICK!” Freeman shouted. “WHAT THE _FUCK?!”_

“Menace!” Captain Rex ordered, “open fire!”

Moira immediately began shooting, taking cover next to Freeman. “Calm yourself, Freeman. When faced with a setback, we must challenge our assumptions.”

Yang broke for cover, running as fast as she possibly could _away_ from this thing as it moaned. Every single noise it emitted just sounded more and more like a Grimm, and once again her heart had gone into overdrive. She hyperfocused on every stomping noise the thing made as it lumbered around, trying to judge when and where it would go, who it would aim for. How Moira was able to stay so calm was beyond Yang, but she pushed it out of her mind. This thing in front of her was a far more pressing matter compared to that. It needed to die, _now._ She opened fire, but not even her shotgun shells at close range seemed to have an effect on it. It swung its massive, clawed hand out at her and Weiss, but missed, only destroying the wall they stood in front of.

 

“The power of destruction!” Moira shouted, a purple orb floating towards the alien. It seemingly screamed in pain and long thin tendrils went from the orb to it. Weiss and Yang continued to keep up the fire, swapping and firing magazines as fast as they possibly could. Yang soon found she was on her last magazine, with few options left if this thing wasn't going down. She was about to challenge it to hit her and embark on a bare-knuckles brawl with it, until two bullets from Pyrrha and Alan knocked it down for good. Its strange goop went everywhere as it fell, and once again all went quiet.

 

Menace waited anxiously, just in case another threat showed up. Thankfully, nothing else materialized.

“An evolutionary dead end,” Moira commented as she poked the thing with her boot. “Perhaps it can aid my research in some way.”

“What kind of research is that?” Yang asked, scoffing. “The mad scientist kind? Why are you even _here?”_

“Private,” Captain Rex said. “I think it's better to leave the Sergeant to her work. We have our own mission.”

Moira smiled, placing a hand on her chest. “Oh, thank you Captain, but I don't mind answering the questions of a curious one. Simply put, child, my genetics work has helped Dr. Tygan, and ADVENT, in the creation of the gene therapy clinics. Without me, they wouldn't even _exist,_ and now, I'm helping the resistance every day.”

 

“You _what?!”_ Yang shouted. Judging by the looks on Alan and Freeman's faces, they couldn't either. How could _anyone_ believe it? “You're responsible for a _genocide!_ Don't you care about that at _all?_ ”

Moira retained her smile, but it was cocky, almost self-assured. “We must all make sacrifices in the name of science.”

Yang immediately brought up her shotgun. “Are you _joking?!_ Millions of people are _dead_ because of _you!_ How can you stand there and smile like they don't fucking matter?!”

Moira furrowed her brow, pushing away Yang's shotgun with her free hand. “Because the progression of _science_ is far more important to me than your _petty squabbles._ Get that weapon out of my face, private.”

 

“Sergeant,” Rex said, cutting in between the two. “Perhaps it would be better for _all_ of us if you oversaw the transfer of alien corpses back to the _Avenger?_ ”

“I agree,” Moira replied, looking down on Yang. “At least then I won't be interrupted by self-righteous interlopers.”

Weiss and Pyrrha pulled Yang back as she kept her eyes locked on Moira. How could she – _anyone,_ really – reconcile the idea that this _madwoman_ was on the _Avenger_ with them? Why was she even working for the Resistance if she had been ADVENT? What was in it for her? Why would the Commander even let her aboard?

 

Despite questioning, neither Captain Rex or Alan had answers. Freeman was just as useless, trying to work out her “teleportation” on his own. He rambled on and on to himself, before concluding “either everything I know of physics is wrong, or the _whole world_ is wrong.” As the Skyranger took them back to the _Avenger,_ Yang feared she would have more questions about Moira than answers.


	14. Higher Devotion

As Yang and Menace 1-5 returned to the Skyranger, she knew she had to seek out answers. There was only one person she could think of who would know, besides the Commander of course. Yang desperately sought answers, but she wasn't about to walk up to Commander Okorie and demand them, call her decisions into question. Ana knew almost everything, next to Price of course. She waited until Ana had returned from a mission of her own, walking back into the barracks with her squad.

 

“ _Amil 'ayh?”_ Ana asked as Yang headed over. “I heard Menace 1-5 had a mission. Did it go well?” Already, she had begun making tea.

Yang paused, trying to push out the terror she had seen at the resistance hideout. “Yeah, it was… fine. Ana, why does the Resistance let Moira stay here?”

Ana froze, carefully setting the kettle down. “Why do you know her?” she asked cautiously. “She's _dangerous,_ Yang.”

“Someone let her on our mission. She _admitted_ to creating the gene therapy clinics. She helped in Earth's genocide. Why haven't you guys _done_ anything about her?”

 

Ana sighed heavily, turning on the burner to begin boiling water for her tea. Usually, when faced with tough questions, Ana's face showed at least _some_ level of positivity and brightness. But not now. Her face was almost _regretful,_ like she had done something wrong.

“Truthfully, I don't know either, child. I asked Commander Okorie the same thing, and she feels that Moira is still useful. It wouldn't be the first time Moira did something like this.”

Yang furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Moira _was_ a respected geneticist before the alien invasion, but… nobody could replicate her life-long thesis. She turned my friend Gabriel into a _monster_ in her pursuit for knowledge. She's experimented on herself. Not to mention she joined the aliens the minute it was clear who was winning the war.”

 

“So…” Yang said, putting the pieces together. “She's a traitor.”

“Mhm,” Ana said, taking the now-boiling water off and allowing it to cool. “I don't know why she left her job at ADVENT. She had everything she could want and more there. Plenty of test subjects, limitless resources… it's a mystery.”

Suddenly, Moira appeared in a burst of purple mist, sitting in a chair as if she had been there the whole time. Yang and Ana both jumped back in surprise. “Tsk, tsk, Amari,” she said. “Spreading lies again? I thought you better than that after so long.”

Ana scowled, returning back to her tea-making. “I will _never_ forgive you for what you did to Gabriel. The aliens should have shot you the first chance they got.”

 

Moira laughed, grinning as she offhandedly waved to Yang, her fingers moving as if she were casting a spell upon her. She looked almost coy as she looked back at Ana. “You know full well that Gabriel Reyes _volunteered_ for that experiment. Oh, but that doesn't fit your narrative, does it?”

“Drop the bullshit,” Yang demanded. “What do you want?”

“I don't want your innocent little mind poisoned by lies about me,” Moira said, dropping her smile. “My work was _always_ controversial, but _only_ because organizations like Overwatch conspired to silence me.”

“Your work was nothing more than rambling,” Ana shot back.

 

Moira shrugged. “Everyone is entitled to their opinion, I suppose. My advice to you, young one? Seek to find _all_ the facts before you form an opinion.”

Just as quickly as she had appeared, Moira was gone. If Yang had met her back at Remnant, she was sure Moira would have been aligned with Salem. But here? Moira's loyalties were an enigma, known only to herself.

“Don't be fooled by her, Yang,” Ana said, sipping on her tea. “You cannot trust Moira.”

“No, I… don't worry, I wasn't about to,” Yang said. “Do you think maybe we can get rid of her somehow? Convince the Commander she's not worth it anymore?”

 

Ana paused, slowly setting down her tea. “I don't think we can, Yang. When the Commander decides something, we should follow.”

Yang frowned. What kind of answer was _that?_ Moira had willingly participated in Earth's _genocide._ Didn't that mean anything to them? “That's… that's a joke, right?”

“No,” Ana said, her face neutral. “Child, we have made a lot of progress against the aliens, but we still need help.”

“I thought you hated Moira?”

 

Ana sighed, setting down the tea. She slowly blinked, shifting anxiously in her chair as she looked at Yang. “Moira… has caused us all great pain. I do not agree with the Commander's decisions, but I am not about to go against her orders.”

The hopelessness of the entire thing hit her all at once. She wasn't blind enough to not understand was Ana was saying. _Don't make waves._ She couldn't be mad at her, though. She couldn't be mad at anyone, other than Moira, of course. Yang blinked slowly, as if doing so would make her anger go away.

“Alright,” she finally said. “I… I understand.”

 

Ana sipped on her tea, but Yang could tell she was just as unhappy with the whole idea as she was. If nothing else, at least there was a kindred spirit around. Yang bid Ana farewell, heading back to her bunk for the evening. It was a little past dinner now – most of the others should be on their way back. Yang collapsed on her bunk, Moira's words and Ana's blunt rebuff of her proposal swirling in her head. Nothing made sense anymore. She closed her eyes, trying to let go of it and calm down, at least a little, but tranquility would not come.

 

She heard Weiss and Pyrrha heading back as well, probably about to start their evening routines. Yang sat up, hanging a leg off her bed as they came in.

“Hey, Yang,” Weiss said. “Where were you? I didn't see you at dinner.”

“Yeah, I was talking to Ana,” Yang admitted. “Listen, about Moira, what do you guys think?”

Weiss let out a disgusted scoff. “Someone we need to stay _far_ away from. Why?”

“Well… I was _going_ to see if I could get her off this ship. I mean, you guys heard her. She shouldn't be here.”

 

“What do you mean 'try?'” Pyrrha asked.

“I don't know. She's just… I can't trust her. I don't know how anyone else can.”

Weiss sighed, sitting down on her bunk and taking her rifle out, beginning the process of cleaning it. “Maybe they don't. Yang, maybe… maybe this isn't worth it? We won't have to deal with her anymore after we leave.”

Yang frowned, staring at Weiss. Did she just forget everything they learned at Beacon? While they worked with Ozpin? Had Weiss just abandoned every principle on the basis of “not her problem” now? “That's your best answer? _'Don't worry about it'?_ I'm not letting someone like _that_ wander around and cause trouble!”

 

“And I'm saying _it's not our problem._ ” Weiss retorted. “We agreed to help them fight the _aliens._ Moira is _not_ an alien, and if we start getting involved in things that don't involve us, they might decide not to help us get home.”

What had gotten into Weiss? What the _fuck_ was her deal? Yang looked to Pyrrha, trying to find some validation, but she held up her hands, not willing to get involved. _Whatever._ If Weiss wasn't going to help out, then fine. Yang would find her own way. She shook her head, hoping she could sleep. Maybe that'd help get her mind off of all this.

 

* * *

 

 

For reasons unknown to Yang, Menace 1-5 was not given a new mission for another week. Weiss speculated that they were being held in reserve, waiting until Tygan and Shen could break through the Codex's encryption. Pyrrha thought that work on the Stargate project had resumed in earnest. Alan and Freeman refused to guess, and Captain Rex remained as stoic as ever. Yang didn't care – all XCOM had to do was point her to the aliens and tell her to shoot.

 

She really hoped they'd tell her to shoot Moira one of these days.

 

The fact that Moira knew full well how valuable she was to the resistance effort didn't give her any humility. If anything, it made her even more arrogant than before. She often would lecture Yang on how the true struggle was for the superiority of ideas, how biology always made one predictable. Furthermore, she posited, Yang and her friends were always beholden to what genetics taught them.

 

Try as she might, Yang found it difficult to ignore her. Her voice grated on Yang's ears, and bizarre nightmares where Moira replaced Adam haunted her. Despite having an entire ship to get away, Moira seemed to show up _everywhere,_ taunting and mocking her at every opportunity. It drove Yang insane, and she knew it was what Moira wanted.

 

Every technique she knew of didn't work. Nothing did. Yang tried to keep herself calm as Moira once again talked down to her, Weiss and Pyrrha about whatever the hell she had decided was worth wasting time on today. Every word was like Moira was slapping her, telling her she was worth less. Something had to give. Either Yang would be back home, or Moira would lose her jaw.

 

The first wasn't happening soon. Maybe it was time to go with the second option.

 

Yang shoved her chair back, clenching her fists. She could feel her teeth grinding as her eyes narrowed, focusing on just Moira. The colors faded away until all she could see was Moira's smug fucking face, that same cocky grin planted on it. Her eyes – one red, the other brown – were the perfect targets. Did Moira know how close to death she was?

 

“Do you _ever_ shut up?” Yang asked, feeling her cheeks heat up. Every part of her was getting hot, actually, come to think of it. From each fingertip to her very core, she was practically on fire with anger. It felt like she was about to explode if she didn't get this rage out.

“It's not my fault you can't understand reality,” Moira said, curiously tilting her head. “You should calm down, young one. Wouldn't want your poor heart to explode.”

Before Yang could ever make a move, Weiss and Pyrrha were right behind her, holding her arms back. This time, they were doing a great job restraining her. _Just one good punch,_ Yang thought, trying to break loose. _That's all I want. Just let me wipe that smug fucking smile off her face._

 

Moira smirked, obviously overjoyed with how irritated she was making Yang. She tugged at her friend's arms, trying to break free so she could throw a punch. Yet, still, Weiss and Pyrrha were at her side, begging her not to do something she'd regret later. How could anyone regret knocking Moira down a peg or two? Yang kept her eyes locked on the Irishwoman, hoping that her anger would burn her very soul.

 

Moira suddenly stood up, her smile disappearing as quick as she usually did, going stiff as a board. Yang looked around – to see the Commander standing right between them, her arms clasped behind her back and looking down on both of them, disappointed.

“Would somebody like to explain to me what is going on here?”

Before Yang could offer a response, Moira had already jumped in. “Commander, I must question the wisdom of conscripting these… _aliens_ to help us. This one has threatened me several times already.”

Yang narrowed her eyes. Surely Commander Okorie would see past this, right? Moira was obviously lying.

 

The Commander rolled her eyes. “I am sure. Private Xiao Long? What say you?”

“Ma'am, Moira's admitted to participating in a _genocide._ I think she's a threat to this ship.” At once, Yang wanted to add “ _and she's a creepy bitch”_ , but decided against it. It probably didn't help her case much. Better to just keep it to what the Commander actually cared about.

“I see,” she said, nodding pensively as her eyes darted between Yang and Moira. Eventually, she sighed, shaking her head. “Private Xiao Long, I am well aware of Moira's… _spotty_ past, shall we say. I am not an alien apologist, but I also do not believe it rational to reject the services of someone willing to fight the aliens.”

 

Yang gritted her teeth, batting away a rogue lock of hair that had gotten in front of her eyes. _God, what a joke._ She expected it to be a longshot anyway, but Yang thought the Commander might have seen eye-to-eye with her on this. It turned out she was just as blinded by Moira's propaganda as anyone else. It almost made her want to just quit now, stop fighting until they could bring her home. Deep down, she knew she couldn't. Not when Weiss and Pyrrha were depending on her.

 

Turning to Moira, the Commander cleared her throat. “ _However,_ Moira, I have noticed your uncooperative behavior these past few days. Private Xiao Long and her friends are some of Earth's greatest allies. I would prefer it if I didn't have to see any more issues between you two.”

All three women remained quiet. Yang didn't do anything to acknowledge she had heard other than nod, while Moira continued to look down, scowling at Yang. The Commander herself looked between the two once more, as if judging if they were going to follow her words and advice or not.

“Alright, I see I need to make it clearer,” she said. “I do not want to hear of any further conflict between you two on my ship. The resistance is above everything else. When we defeat the aliens, then you may do as you please, but until then, I would like two of my best warriors to remain focused. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Yang said.

“Understood, Commander Okorie.”

 

Nodding and smiling, Commander Okorie departed. Yang, still seething with anger, left as well with Weiss and Pyrrha. _Anything_ to get away from Moira. Maybe she would get her chance – as soon as they had arrived in the barracks, Captain Rex called Menace 1-5 to the briefing room. Once again, the team gathered in the small briefing room, where shady, static-filled images lined the projector wall. Alan and Freeman regarded the scene with almost as much confusion as Yang, Weiss and Pyrrha did.

 

“Alright, Menace,” Captain Rex said, a usual greeting by now. “Another priority one mission for us. Doctors Tygan and Shen have decoded the alien Codex coordinates. We know where it's coming from – this unknown facility, here.”

The screen focused on a world map, zooming in on a dusty, desert-filled area. Yang had heard Weiss tell her about this place, and how much it reminded her of Menagerie. Apparently, Freeman was from here.

“Ah, good old New Mexico,” Freeman commented. “What, are we blowing up Black Mesa or something?”

“No,” Rex said flatly. “We're not sure, but we believe this could be where the Codex originated from. We're on our way to recon the area, but if they put up as big of a fight here as they did at the Forge, let's expect heavy resistance.”

 

“Wait, that's it?” Yang asked as Captain Rex began to pack up. “We're just going in _blind_ on this one?”

Rex nodded grimly. “It's just like the Forge. Our scanners can't reach it, whatever jamming effects ADVENT has are stronger than our scanners.”

That sealed it. The squad gathered weapons and ammo, preparing for a long, hard fight. Yang loaded up on extra grenades, just in case they'd be necessary. Alan made sure to pack enough rifle rounds to take on a small army, while Freeman brought a set of flashbang grenades that apparently broke alien psionic influence and effects.

 

Unusually, though, General O'Neill and Major Carter appeared at the Skyranger, clad in their green coveralls and black tactical gear. O'Neill stood with his strange, 3-foot long submachine gun slung in front of him, adjusting his hat as they approached. “Captain,” he said, nodding in respect. “Glad to see Menace got this one. Don't know if I would have trusted Beauclair's squad for this.”

“General,” Rex said, saluting. “I wasn't expecting Able 5-5 to assist on this one.”

“We're not,” General O'Neill replied. “Carter and I are on this by Commander Okorie's orders.”

Alan groaned, walking straight past the two as he headed onto the Skyranger. “Just what we needed, more people to keep track of.”

 

“ _Lieutenant,”_ Rex warned. “These are _superior officers,_ you should show a little _respect._ ”

“No, it's fine,” O'Neill said. “I think we can hold our own, Lieutenant.”

Yang hadn't had the chance to see either Major Carter or General O'Neill in combat before. It must have been important, for the Commander to send them off of their squad and to their mission. That even made this entire _mission_ odd. Yang had only ever seen Pyrrha added on occasionally as an extra member, not two to a full squad. Maybe this was a lot more dangerous than she thought.

 

The ride from the _Avenger_ to the combat zone was quiet. None of them knew what to expect, other than the anticipated tough battle. Would it be just alien soldiers guarding the origin point? Mutons? An entire platoon of stun lancers and Sectoids? Or something new entirely? The lack of knowledge ate away at Yang the entire time up until the Skyranger dropped ropes to allow them down. One by one, they descened onto unfamiliar ground.

 

Strange plants covered in purple moss dotted the landscape. Little blue lights glowed in and out, dancing across Yang's vision. If she didn't know that this was a place controlled firmly by the aliens, Yang would have thought of the entire scene as lovely. But right now, knowing what she did, it just made her sick.

“Is the desert always like this?” Pyrrha asked, checking her scope for hostiles as O'Neill and Carter landed.

“No,” Freeman said indignantly. “These plants are new. What are these, though? Fairies? Y'know, science hasn't dis _proven_ the existence of fairies, but…”

“Shut up, Freeman,” Alan said. “Nikos, see that guard tower there? We're taking it.”

 

Captain Rex immediately unholstered his pistols, charging forward alongside Pyrrha and Alan. “Let's make sure they get there alright, Menace,” he ordered quietly.

As they headed forward, Yang heard Carter make mention of “non-native flora” for the area, alongside O'Neill wondering if Freeman was secretly right about his “fairies” theory. The cracked ground below them made every footstep sound loud, as if the aliens had always known they were right there and were just toying with them. Yang could barely see with all these little blue lights swirling around them. It all made her head hurt. Off in the distance, the squad heard a strange clacking sound.

 

“The _hell_ is that noise?” Freeman asked, wincing.

“I don't know,” Rex said. “But I don't like it. Keep your eyes peeled, Menace.”

The strange chittering drew ever closer, but the night offered no comfort to them. If anything, it made the entire mood _worse._ As they neared the guard tower, Yang's flashlight caught sight of… _something,_ no doubt, but what the hell was it? It looked like some kind of spike that had been jabbed into the ground.

 

“Oh-ho-ho,” Freeman said, aiming his MP5 at the spike. “What is _this?_ Hell's coat rack, I don't think so!”

“ _Fuck!”_ Alan shouted. “ _Chryssalids!”_

“Crystal- _whats?_ ” Pyrrha asked.

The chittering changed to an immediate, blood-curdling screech that echoed across the empty desert. The guard tower was positively swarming with them, and their eyes glowed as their weapon-mounted lights caught their faces. The scaly, almost armor-like legs and arms were thin, accentuated by long bony fingers with orange-tipped claws. Bizarre orange horns tapered up from their heads and along their back, adding to an already terrifying appearance. Their disgusting presentation betrayed their swift nature, however – before Yang had even raised her shotgun to her shoulder, they were descending upon her.

 

No time to aim. Yang pulled the trigger as fast as it could go, nailing one of them. It slid past her as it died. Weiss emptied half a magazine into the other, as O'Neill and Carter worked in tandem to eliminate a group heading their way. Freeman fired wildly, missing one charging for him entirely. Had it not been for Captain Rex's timely intervention, he might have been killed. The shots only drew more of the Chryssalids.

“Don't let them get too close!” Captain Rex shouted.

Yang could barely count how many were out there. She hardly knew how many shots it had taken to take down just one of them.

“Set up a firing line!” O'Neill yelled, advancing to a half-wall with Carter. Along with Freeman, Alan, Rex, Pyrrha and Weiss, Yang moved up along the wall, checking ammo levels in her shotgun magazine. Half a mag left loaded. Ten more in her rig. If all went well, this should be enough. Yang started shooting, trying to pick targets, but it seemed like each time she knocked one down, three more took its place.

 

“There's too many of them!” Yang shouted, desperately reloading. _Fuck._ She fumbled the magazine, watching it drop uselessly to the ground. She knelt down for a split second to pick it up, standing tall just in time to see one standing in front of her, screeching and spitting on her as she hastily shoved the magazine back in. Before she could rack the bolt, it drew back to attack, only to be interrupted by Alan's rifle firing. The Chryssalid fell to the ground, dead.

“S'why we shoot the fuckers on sight!” Alan yelled. “Can't have more of these goddamn pikers popping out of yer chest!”

 

Had Yang heard right? Did he say they'd come out of her _chest?_ How? Why? Who the fuck _designed_ these things? If Yang didn't already know she was fighting on another planet, she would have thought these things were prime Grimm material. The final wave came to an end as the Chryssalids began to retreat, and an uneasy calm crossed the guard outpost. Alan finally ordered Pyrrha up the guard tower, just to confirm that they had cleared out the Chryssalids for good.

 

As Pyrrha climbed up the tower, Menace began an ammo check. Yang had spent four of her ten magazines fighting these things, and most others weren't much better off.

“I always hated pest control,” O'Neill commented. “Aliens made improvements. Our guns should have shredded them.”

“We'll have to see if we can bring one back for Dr. Tygan to examine,” Carter said.

“It looks clear from up here, Lieutenant,” Pyrrha reported.

 

Yang didn't like the calm. It had felt like this just before Ludwig had died. The entire area just made her uneasy and on edge, as if something bad was going to happen at any moment. Each sound, each snapping twig, every little light that made her look twice, panicked her. Something wasn't right here. She still couldn't see past these damned lights. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe her paranoia was getting to her. The squad, plus their two high-ranking associates, began to creep forward as Alan reloaded, making way to get up with Pyrrha.

 

The sound of claws dragging themselves against dry, broken dirt reached her ears, in time with another horrific screech. It was coming from behind them. Yang turned in time to see a Chryssalid hacking Alan apart. His guttural screams of pain chilled Yang's bones as her stomach sank to the lowest point imaginable. For a second, Yang paused, her finger twitching over the trigger. Strange orange goo began to cover Alan as he slid against the guard tower wall, mixing with the blood that was seeping out of him. In the short time before the goo began to envelop her friend, she swore she could have seen every part of the inside of his body.

 

As if everything was happening in slow motion, Yang felt her mouth dry up and froze in fear. Her throat began to itch, as if she had been screaming right alongside Alan in his final moments. Maybe she had – she was barely conscious of Pyrrha crying out just as desperately. She snapped back to reality as the Chryssalid began turning towards her, its claws covered in Alan's blood.

 

_Fuck you._

 

She unloaded the magazine into the offending Chryssalid, and it fell without making a sound. _Not again,_ she thought, trying and failing to hold back tears. Why her? Why _her_ team?

“Private!” O'Neill yelled. “He's gone! Either shoot that sac or get out of the way!”

“I'm not leaving him here!” Yang shouted back. “We can't _do_ that!”

O'Neill furrowed his brow, tightening the grip on his weapon. “I don't like it any more than you do, but if you _don't_ destroy that pod, there's going to be more Chryssalids coming out of him!”

 

Yang planted her hand on her forehead, trying to clear the pounding headache that she was trying to nurse. Someone racked the bolt of their gun. Two shots rang out in rapid succession, both from Pyrrha's rifle. Yang watched the orange goo pop like a blister, revealing once again Alan's dead body as blood began to drain onto the ground. Yang looked away. She couldn't bear to see him like this. Not now.

 

“Sir,” Pyrrha reported, “there's something out there!”

“What is it, Corporal?” Rex asked.

“I don't know, but I think it's what we came here for.”

Rex sighed, shaking his head. “Menace,” he said somberly, “let's move out.”

 

Yang slowly stood up, loading a fresh magazine in. Weiss's hand was on her shoulder, looking at her with concerned eyes. Her uniform was dirty, covered in dust and maybe just a little bit of alien blood. Had she not noticed?

“Are you alright, Yang?”

Yang scoffed, blinking hard as if that'd make her forget what she had just seen. “What do _you_ think?”

Pyrrha soon joined them on the ground, and together with the rest of Menace 1-5, they double-timed it to the area where Pyrrha thought she had spotted something. They came across an… altar of sorts, from the looks of it. Half-walls lined up against a pair of short mesas, bringing a half-paved road to a platform that held some sort of curved structure. If it were in Remnant, Yang would have thought this thing part of some avant-garde art piece or something.

 

“I'm not sure what we were expecting to find when we got here,” O'Neill said. “But this looks promising.”

“I'm getting some readings,” Carter said, scanning with a handheld device. “This isn't the same rift the Codex used when it appeared. This thing could lead anywhere, it might not even be pointed at _Earth.”_

O'Neill paused, turning towards Carter, confused. “Wait, you mean to tell me this thing could be a…what, a _gate_ or something?”

Carter shrugged. “Maybe? I don't know.”

Cutting into their comms, Tygan added his own opinion. “As with most things, we'll likely need to bring it back to the ship for further examination.”

 

As Captain Rex, Major Carter and General O'Neill began to confer with one another, the bizarre structure suddenly formed a portal. It wasn't like the ones Yang had seen her mom use. This was less violent, more… _elegant_ in nature. A black dot appeared, surrounded by purple tendrils of energy. From the center, a flash of white appeared, spreading out the purple even further and enveloping a strange, impossible to comprehend white ball.

 

Counter to Yang's expectations, it didn't roll, but floated above the ground. Its pure white shell had small lines etched into it, all centered around a golden… _eye,_ if it could even be called that, that looked erratically at each member of the squad. The shell moved in and out, constantly making some sort of adjustments, for what reason Yang didn't know.

 

Yang stared at this _monster_ in terror, trying to understand what was going on with it, and what it was capable of. Did they have anything that could help them against this? Did their weapons even _work?_ Or was Yang destined to die here, forgotten and alone like Alan?

“Menace,” Captain Rex said, his voice shaky. “Open fire.”

 

Yang found herself pulling the trigger without even realizing it, watching the squad do the same. If anything, it seemed like most of their fire just pissed the thing off, their bullets bouncing off of it. It shook violently for a few seconds, as if it were a dog throwing off fleas. Without warning, the ball opened, revealing what Yang could only describe as horror that outmatched anything she had ever seen at home. The interior of it held a mass of tentacles and bizarre pink flesh, crackling with either electricity or psionic energy. Maybe both, to be honest. A purple aura surrounded the tentacles, and it began forming an equally purple ball using quick, rapid movements. With a shove using invisible forces, the ball went sailing right for them.

 

“Scatter!” O'Neill shouted.

The ball hit them before anyone other than O'Neill, Carter and Rex could move. Yang went flying, hitting a mesa and losing her shotgun again. She looked up from the dust to see Weiss, Pyrrha and Freeman had suffered the same fate. Only Weiss and Pyrrha seemed okay – Freeman had just started screaming his head off the second the shell opened up and continued on this course of action as he got up.

 

“Lob grenades at that thing!” Rex shouted out, already preparing to toss a few of his own.

Yang needed no further encouragement. She grabbed the grenades off her belt, ripping off the pins and throwing them as far and fast as she could at the sphere. As if it knew exactly what they wanted to do, it leered at her with its eye, as if it were analyzing her for a threat. _Wait,_ Yang thought. _Shotgun._

 

Second time. Not again. Yang looked for her shotgun, spotting it near Weiss. Perfect, she could link up and then help her and Pyrrha focus fire on this sphere of doom. Yang sprinted out of cover, grabbing her shotgun as she slid behind the broken tree Weiss was hiding behind.

“How's it look?” she asked, trying to mask her fear.

Weiss looked at Yang, clear panic and stress on her face. She didn't need words. Yang knew exactly what Weiss was thinking, because she was thinking it too. _We're going to die here._ She peeked out over their cover, trying to spot Pyrrha. She was on her knee, firing at their enemy as fast as she could.

“Don't freak out…don't freak out… _I said don't freak out, goddammit!”_ Freeman shouted, shakily reloading his gun behind an overturned truck. _“I'm totally not freaking out right now, because this is me not freaking out! What do I have to freak out over anyway?!_ _ **Nothing! Because I'm not!”**_

 

Yang lost track of time and space as she started shooting back, causing the ball to close back up again. Good and bad – by closing the shell, it couldn't use its tentacles against them, but it had a just as deadly laser. The laser demolished trees and rocks alike, annihilating any sort of cover as they continued to pour rounds into it. Yang could do little more than keep running from position to position, hoping somehow that their bullets would actually get through.

 

Finally, it seemed they had the effect all of Menace was hoping for. The strange ball shook violently before exploding outright, sending pieces of its shell across the desert with a massive echoing boom.

“FUCK YOU, REALITY,” Freeman yelled. “YOU'RE FULL OF SHIT!”

“I don't suppose any of you got the license plate on that thing?” O'Neill asked.

Menace 1-5 held the area until a salvage team could arrive and retrieve the pieces, along with Alan's body for his funeral. Yang fell asleep the minute she stepped onto the Skyranger. Fighting this thing – whatever it was – had drained her of everything. She slipped into an uneasy, nightmare-filled sleep, constantly watching Alan die in front of her.


	15. Thought Balloon

More people showed up to Alan's funeral than they had Ludwig's. Maybe it was because he was a bit more personable than the late doctor – Yang suspected most of the people who paid their respects had worked with hm in the past, or knew him from working alongside him on the _Avenger._ The scene became almost a revolving door of people showing up, saying a few words, and wishing they had known they wouldn't be seeing him again.

 

Out of anyone outside Menace, though, Lieutenant Voll spent the most time over him, quietly muttering something. After a few minutes, she slammed her fist on his coffin. “Fucking shame, it is,” she said through gritted teeth. “Fuck these aliens. Why do they keep on killing my friends?”

Ana prayed for his soul in Arabic, hoping that he would find the solace in death he did not have in life. No grand speeches were made by anyone, only a glass raised in his memory. This one was a grain alcohol that Bradford claimed was Alan's own creation.

 

After the service, Alan's name and a short epitaph were added to the Memorial Wall, alongside an old picture of him. He wore a uniform Yang didn't recognize. It must have been from his days in the Australian Army. He was standing next to a dark-skinned man, with short black hair visible underneath his hat. Was this the buddy he had talked about? Probably.

 

For Pyrrha, it was all too much. She was inconsolable from the moment they landed back at the _Avenger._ Props to her, she had managed to hold it together nearly the entire time on the way back, but seeing his empty bunk and coffin surely did her in. It almost made Yang cry as hard as her, knowing one of the few friends she had made on the _Avenger_ was now gone.

 

Captain Rex no doubt took the loss the hardest, however. He remained stoic, no doubt frustrated by the loss of another one of his soldiers. Once again, Menace was left with time off, allowed to grieve the loss of their friend and squadmate. In the interim, Pyrrha was promoted to Sergeant, while Yang and Weiss both got their well-deserved promotions to Corporal.

 

Freeman too got a promotion, to Lieutenant. Initially, he was overjoyed with it, until he realized it meant he would have to start doing paperwork. Granted, he tried to do it for a while, but soon began trying to offload it onto literally anyone. He did basically everything – bribing people with money, offering connections to someone named “Eddie”, special privileges that he wasn't allowed to offer, among other methods. Captain Rex quickly – and publicly – impressed upon him that he would be demoted right back down to Corporal if he didn't put an end to it.

 

The break from being dispatched to missions was good and bad, though. It gave them time to relax and unwind, but it drove Yang mad. There was only so many times Yang could clean her shotgun, go to the range, and run the killhouse to keep herself in top form before it got boring. _Something_ had to change.

 

Thankfully, it did. General O'Neill gathered her, Weiss and Pyrrha up one day, ordering them to follow him. They went deep into the depths of the _Avenger,_ to the so-called Shadow Chamber. Like with the Psionic Chamber, or the “Think Tank” as Moira preferred to call it, the Shadow Chamber was filled to the brim with purple lights. Maps of the world covered the walls, next to monitors that displayed some sort of data she couldn't understand. The gate they had recovered had been stuffed in here, barely fitting in the room. It had no portal within, but Yang guessed that was probably for the better. Major Carter, Doctor Tygan, and Chief Engineer Shen stood behind various panels and control boards.

 

“Ah, General, Miss Xiao Long, Schnee, Nikos, thank you for joining us,” Tygan said, readjusting his glasses.

“What's going on?” Weiss asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

“We've made ourselves a breakthrough, looks like,” O'Neill said, heading around to the alien gate. “Years at Stargate, and the aliens had the answer right here. Told you they should have given us more funding.”

“Regardless of policy differences,” Tygan said, clearing his throat. “We believe we can use the alien psionic gate to reach alternate realities. The possibilities are _endless._ ”

 

Almost immediately, O'Neill winced, turning to hold up a cautionary finger. “Uh, don't get too attached to that one, ladies. It's just a _hypothesis,_ right Carter?”

Yang looked at the gate. It didn't offer any clues to its workings other than an opaque purple haze. It was almost mesmerizing, until she remembered the horror that had come out of it in New Mexico.

“Well,” Carter said. “Hypothesis or not, we have gotten signals that not only match the ones ADVENT uses, but also ones that are similar to the signals we got when you three appeared on Earth.”

“So, wait,” Yang asked, hopeful for the first time she had gotten here. “You're thinking this thing can take us back to Remnant?”

 

“ _I'm_ thinking you don't know what _hypothesis_ means,” O'Neill said, raising an eyebrow. “We need to run more tests until we're sure. Last one was a failure. Pretty cool one, to be honest.”

“If you think nearly losing ROV-R is a 'cool experiment' then I'd hate to see what you think of a bad one,” Shen replied, frowning. ROV-R, Shen's personal GREMLIN, was more like a pet to her than a small drone. Yang looked to her right, spotting the little guy sitting in a half-broken heap next to Shen. What had happened?

“I know we're on the cusp of unlocking the secrets of this technology,” Tygan said, ignoring Shen and O'Neill. “Which is why we need to task you three specifically for our next objective.”

 

Carter brought out a heavily modified Skulljack, giving one to Yang, Pyrrha and Weiss each. It felt heavier than the old one in the few times she had handled it, and was clearly larger. Despite the weight, it still felt smooth to move around.

“We need you to use this modified Skulljack on a Codex,” Carter explained. “Preferably, while it's _alive._ ”

“That…sounds dangerous,” Pyrrha said.

“Oh, for sure,” O'Neill said, nodding. “Part of the fun, isn't it?”

“By gaining access to the Codex's part of the network, we'll be able to learn how it interacts with this gate,” Carter added.

“And then you can replicate that technology,” Weiss finished.

 

“Alright then,” Yang said, flexing her fingers as she looked at the Skulljack on her arm. “Where's the nearest Codex?”

 

* * *

 

 

Much to Yang's chagrin, Moira became a permanent member of Menace 1-5 after her original squad was decimated in their attempt to rescue a resistance VIP from underneath the sewers in Italy. Perhaps even worse, even though Pyrrha was promoted before Moira even joined the squad, Moira was their most senior NCO due to having been a Sergeant for longer. Weiss had to endure many a lecture from Yang that Moira was only here because they needed _someone_ in the squad who knew what to do when they used their new Skulljack.

 

Their goal to use the Skulljack on an alien Codex would theoretically be the most important priority, and it was. In practice, however, the aliens rarely deployed Codexes in the field, and when they did, they were the first targets to go down. Rarely did they have time to close in with the Skulljack, and when they did, it was almost prohibitively dangerous to do so.

 

Of course, that was Weiss's view of the situation. Yang never had any qualms about about charging right into a squad of aliens, all guns blazing. If she killed one, great, If she could find a chance to use the Skulljack, maybe even better. Weiss constantly wondered if her friend just had a death wish, or if this was how she always had been. She didn't know which option was better.

 

“Hello?” Yang asked, waving a hand in front of her face. “You there, Weiss?”

“Yes, sorry,” Weiss said, shaking her head as if to clear her mind of the past few days.

“Listen up, Menace,” Rex said, as Weiss noted they were on the Skyranger. “We're on our way to a halted ADVENT convoy, they're moving one of our VIPs. We're heading in to extract them and bring them home safely.”

“Anything we should know?” Weiss asked.

“Careful with your weapons fire,” Rex ordered. _“All_ of you. We don't know which vehicle our VIP is in, and I'd rather not have one of our shots blow up his vehicle.”

 

The squad nodded, readying their weapons for the upcoming mission. Weiss wasn't sure where they were anymore – she had long lost track of where their missions had begun to take them. Moira was the only one who bothered to keep tabs on that sort of thing, and she categorically refused to speak to any of them now unless she wanted something, or felt like showing off her intellect. Weiss could easily see how she rubbed Yang the wrong way.

 

The Skyranger began to hover over a crowded city, dropping ropes for them to descend down. The cool night air was made chillier by a downpour of rain, and even though the city had been ruined by alien weapons, the skyline still shined against the blanket of night, almost in defiance. The rain muted most of the sounds of the city, but she could clearly hear the sirens and motors from the ADVENT vehicles.

“Convoy's that way,” Rex said, gesturing to the north with his pistols. “You know what to do, Menace, let's go.”

Pyrrha stepped off to find a convenient rooftop to snipe from. Weiss hung back a short distance, maintaining an interval between Captain Rex and Moira as Yang and Freeman took point. She knew Yang hated having Moira behind her, but hopefully with Weiss there, she'd be more at ease. Despite this, Yang constantly looked back, checking to make sure Moira wasn't planning to turn her rifle on them and call it an accident. Moira seemed to pick up on this, and said something in Gaelic every time she turned her head.

 

About two streets down, Weiss could see lights flashing as the sirens became louder. They had to be close to the convoy by now.

“I see the convoy,” Pyrrha reported. “Eyes on eight troopers, two officers, a Codex, and…uh something.”

“What's the something, Sergeant?” Rex asked, taking cover behind a car.

“I don't know,” Pyrrha said. “It looks like a man, but…it's just the upper torso. He has some kind of staff and a helmet covering his face.”

“These things are no better than the floaters my father faced,” Shen said, cutting into their comms. “The design may have been updated, but it's still the same grotesque being.”

“Floaters,” Moira explained, “were alien organic-machine hybrids. I never _did_ get the chance to examine one in detail…”

 

Rex, ignoring Moira, ordered Yang and Freeman across the street to set up a crossfire as they neared the convoy. The lead vehicle was in sight, and with it, the Codex. It didn't appear to have spotted them as they moved. Pyrrha was tasked with determining which officer should be taken out first. Unfortunately, civilians were all over the place, risking unintentional fire if the fight started suddenly. Weiss wasn't the only one to take note of this.

 

“Sir,” Yang said, “there's civilians _everywhere._ If we start a firefight-”

“They made their choice,” Moira said harshly. “If they're not actively resisting, they're collaborators.”

Weiss scoffed. “That's rich coming from _you._ What was it that you did for ADVENT again?”

“Cut the chatter,” Rex snapped. “They'll disperse when the shooting starts. Don't worry.”

“Sir,” Moira chimed in. “I recommend we eliminate this Floater before attempting to engage the others. The Codex can wait.”

 

Rex shook his head. “Going to have to veto that one, Sergeant. Xiao Long, get to work. The rest of you, cover her.”

Yang nodded, checking her magazine. Weiss took cover behind a brick building as Rex, Moira and Freeman moved up to a barrier ADVENT had put up. Pyrrha reported she had identified the alien lieutenant, with Rex ordering her to take the shot when ready. That would signal Yang to charge at the Codex. In order to help Yang get to the Codex as fast as possible, Weiss had prepared glyphs to speed Yang up and avoid reaction fire. In case that wasn't enough, though, she had also planned to send bursts of rifle fire to select alien troopers.

 

Seconds ticked away as she focused herself on forming the glyphs, waiting for Yang to start running. Weiss could practically feel her heartbeat with every passing moment, waiting for the action to start. Her sights were focused over an alien trooper, blissfully unaware of the violence that was about to happen.

 

Then, just like that, Pyrrha's rifle broke the tranquility of the scene. The officer fell as predicted, and Weiss activated the glyphs, speeding Yang over to the Codex before it could react. Time to help Yang. Weiss sent three controlled bursts out, killing one, two, three alien soldiers. She had to adjust her aim only a little bit to account for them moving in ways she hadn't expected. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yang ram the Skulljack into the Codex, followed by a flurry of exchanges between Yang, Tygan and Shen that she couldn't pay attention to. Not when Pyrrha was firing at the other alien officer, and the other trooper had taken to cover behind a vehicle. Yang extracted the Skulljack seconds later to the sound of the Codex letting out a horrific mechanical screech.

 

“OK, everybody settle down!,” Freeman yelled as he threw shots at the alien behind the vehicle. “Did you say something? You want me to shoot more? Sure! I can do that!”

“ _You're_ the only one who's unsettled,” Moira commented. “This floater is fascinating, an improved design no doubt. I must-”

“Save it for later, Sergeant,” Rex ordered. “He's heading for Xiao Long!”

Freeman continued to pour rounds into the alien behind the car, as Moira and Captain Rex shifted their fire over to the floater. It flailed its arms about, swinging wildly at Yang but missing, and then ascended to the sky.

“Oh my _God,”_ Freeman muttered. “This whole neighborhood's going to hell.”

 

“Can _anyone_ tell me what that thing's doing?!” Rex asked, reloading his pistols.

“I think we've got bigger problems here!” Yang called out, taking cover behind one of the AVENT transports. Right between Yang and the squad, a strange purple energy field appeared, much like the one they had observed at the alien gate in the _Avenger._

“Captain, the alien's doing something!” Pyrrha reported, still trying to find a shot on the floater.

Right below Yang, Freeman, Moira and Rex, orange beams appeared, seemingly called down from the sky. Was this some kind of alien orbital bombardment device? Shen had speculated the aliens had some kind of weapon like this.

“ _Scatter!_ ” Rex shouted, heading anywhere that could have been out of range.

 

As if to add on to their problems, the purple energy field exploded, revealing an androgynous human clad in purple, which seemed to be the alien's motif, with long white hair that defied physics as it floated behind them. They carried a strange weapon, with an equally extraordinary claw-like weapon slung on their hip.

 

“What the _hell_ is that thing?!” Yang asked.

Without warning, the orange beams sent down crashing explosions of some sort, rocking them and demolishing what little cover remained in the area. Pyrrha's rifle rang out, and the so-called floater fell to the ground, dead. _Well, one problem down._

“This must be the physical embodiment of the Avatar Project,” Tygan speculated. “Who knows what this being is capable of?”

“I don't think we want to find out,” Rex said. “Menace! Open fire!”

 

Like with the Codex, the Avatar seemed to dodge their shots, unfazed by anything Menace sent at them. The Avatar teleported, going to high ground almost equal with Pyrrha. Rex ordered Yang and Freeman to break cover and recover the VIP, with Moira, Pyrrha, Weiss and Rex now focusing on killing the Avatar. Weiss focused her sights on the Avatar. Well, as much as she _could,_ anyway. Every other shot seemed to just make them teleport somewhere else. Suddenly, they stopped, still indifferent to the bullets pinging off their armor. They took hold of the claw weapon on their hip, forming a purple ball with their free hand and pushing it to Weiss.

 

Instantly, she was overcome with unusual visions, impossible geometry, and sights that challenged every assumption she ever had. Nothing made sense anymore. She heard Captain Rex and Pyrrha asking for a report, but their voices sounded far away, as if caught in the clouds.

 

Suddenly, she felt a powerful, overwhelming energy within her.

 

_Kill. Kill them all._

 

Almost immediately, Weiss centered her sights on Moira. The Irishwoman's eyes grew wide, and her mouth moved. Was she trying to plead for her life?

 

_The Elders smile upon those who kill._


	16. Firestorm

“Does somebody want to tell me why Schnee is shooting at us?!” Moira demanded, taking cover behind a planter.

Pyrrha scanned the battlefield again. For some nebulous reason, Weiss had begun emptying her magazine into the cover Moira was standing behind. The regular alien troopers had already fallen, along with the officers and single Sectoid. The so-called floater was also no longer an issue, which only left the Avatar. A ring of violet energy emanated from Weiss's head like a halo, accentuated by small wisps of it that drifted away like the smoke from a candle. Pyrrha tracked it, leading her to…

 

The Avatar.

 

“Captain,” Pyrrha said. “I think the Avatar has Weiss under some kind of hypnosis.”

“That makes this easier then,” Moira commented, perhaps a bit more calmly than Pyrrha had expected given her situation. “We need to break that connection.”

“Lieutenant, where are you flashbangs?” Rex asked, firing at the Avatar.

“I was _hoping_ I could save these until after we won, but, hell, I _guess_ I can use one here.”

 

_“Lieutenant!”_ Rex bellowed. “Get over here and pop those flashbangs!”

Freeman grumbled something as he headed over, tossing flashbangs wildly in an attempt to catch the Avatar in its radius before they teleported again. It looked like it worked – the Avatar shielded their eyes after one of the flashbangs went off. The purple smoke trail that traced a path to Weiss's head faded, dissipating with the wind. Yang's call that the VIP had made it to safety was lost in the confusion.

“What happened?” Weiss asked, looking around in confusion. “Why's my rifle empty?”

 

“Not the time, Corporal,” Rex said. “Reload and maintain fire on the Avatar!”

Pyrrha shifted her focus away from Weiss and back onto the Avatar, firing more rounds into them. Like before, the Avatar dodged her shots, or appeared to at least, and they had more tricks up their sleeve for Menace. The Avatar called upon some sort of rift that enveloped Rex, Weiss, Moira and Freeman in an odd, mauve wave, with splotches of black and cracking electricity surrounding the circular area it claimed. Moira identified the thing they were in as a “dimensional rift”, causing Freeman to start off on an ignored rant about “defining terms.”

 

Regardless, Menace scattered, a fact that was exploited by the Avatar even as Pyrrha fired at them. The Avatar carefully took aim, hitting Weiss and Moira with shots from its plasma rifle. Yang charged to close distance, unloading her shotgun on the Avatar as the so-called dimensional rift collapsed on itself, destroyed all cover in the area. The Avatar calmly turned to Yang, and grabbed her throat with a gloved hand, slamming her to the ground.

 

Pyrrha desperately shoved a new magazine in, trying to help her friend out. Probably thinking they had killed Yang, the Avatar stood tall again, jumping over a small barricade to start firing at Menace once more. Incensed, Yang leaped back to her feet, punching the Avatar in the face and sending them careening into one of the convoy's vehicles. The Avatar rolled its head about, disoriented. Pyrrha took the opportunity to pour an entire magazine into the Avatar while it was stunned.

 

“Cease fire!” Rex ordered when Pyrrha's last shot rang out.

Her entire body tensed up, Pyrrha hovered her sights over the Avatar's face as she finished reloading. Menace tried to judge if the Avatar was actually dead, or merely pretending. She became acutely aware of her rushed, uneven breathing, trying to calm herself down in case she needed to make a quick reaction shot. Out of the very corner of her scope, she saw the Avatar twitch.

 

_“Géill do mo thoil!”_ Moira yelled, sending out a strange yellow and purple ray directly into the Avatar, which sustained for several seconds. As the beam faded, Moira collapsed, with the only remains of it showing on the Avatar's scorched armor. Her exhaustion apparently did not last long – she stood back up not long after, cackling as she rubbed her right arm. “What a _flawed_ creation. An incomplete one, I am sure. Curious.”

“What's _curious,”_ Yang asked. “This thing, or your hand in making it?”

“What an interesting hypothesis,” Moira said, scowling. “ _Neither._ Examining this will be most satisfying indeed.”

 

The Commander tapped into their comms shortly after, ordering them to evac immediately with the dead Avatar and floater in tow. ADVENT had mobilized in response to their attack on the convoy, and they couldn't risk hanging around longer. Pyrrha hated using their only transport to move the dead, but there was little point in leaving the bodies behind. If nothing else, having a little alien blood in the Skyranger was worth it if they could bring something of scientific worth back to Tygan.

 

Moira passed the time on their way back by bouncing a yellow orb between them, curiously enough healing the wounds they had sustained during the battle. Pyrrha was thankfully uninjured, but she could see Weiss's pain fade away as a long yellow curl extended to her.

 

* * *

 

 

Weiss sighed, flopping over on her bunk after being ejected from the infirmary. She had been subjected to hours of tests, trying to determine if she had suffered any long-term effects from alien mind control. Major Carter had told her that usually, alien mind control did not have long lasting effects. The smaller Sectoids almost never had the power to affect soldiers outside of about 100 meters, and even if they did, most soldiers returned to normal upon being removed from combat. The tests were rigorous and, for the most part, pointless in Weiss's eyes. What was the point of subjecting her to all these exercises and memory tests if she had already displayed she knew who and where she was?

 

Of course, she recognized it was just a necessary precaution. They had no idea if the Avatar could influence them beyond the battlefield, or even death itself. Still, it annoyed her. She scarcely remembered even _seeing_ the Avatar in combat. If anything, she had seen it once, had her head clouded with all sorts of impossible visions, and then suddenly she was back on the _Avenger._ Major Carter and Doctor Tygan claimed the tests showed nothing wrong, and thus she had been released back to general life.

 

And now, here she was, exhausted.

“So, what happened out there, Weiss?” Yang asked.

“Huh?”

“You, like, unloaded an entire mag into Moira. I mean, I would have too, but-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Weiss said, bolting upright. “I _what?”_

 

“Well, you _were_ under alien mind control,” Pyrrha chimed in. “I didn't think you would shoot Moira though.”

“I didn't do it because I _wanted_ to!” Weiss protested, furrowing her brow.

Yang shrugged. “Didn't matter much. You missed every shot on her.”

Weiss groaned, falling back on the bed. Shooting teammates was _not_ going to get them home any faster. Well, at least it had been Moira, and at least she had missed. She couldn't bear to think what could have happened if the Avatar had incited her to shoot at Yang or Pyrrha.

 

* * *

 

 

The time passed lazily. Menace 1-5 was sent out briefly on supporting missions such as securing data access points the Resistance had uncovered, recovering abandoned alien supplies, and assassinating the occasional ADVENT general. The combat had become routine by now – Weiss was used to the weight of her rifle, and their tactics had finally made sense after all this time. Other than risking being taken over by the newly-dubbed Spectre, the strange black alien that seemed to copy them wholesale, the aliens did not bring forward any new threats.

 

It gave her a sense of security that was anxiety-inducing.

 

Thankfully, the anxiety came to an end when General O'Neill called her, Yang and Pyrrha into the Shadow Chamber. He didn't say much, other than saying Tygan had made a breakthrough. It was odd – Weiss had noted that Tygan didn't much mention Ludwig anymore since his passing. It seemed he only remembered the man's name when coming across an old report Ludwig had filed, or finding a pair of his round glasses. Tygan had made many a joke that Ludwig lost more glasses in a week than most people would wear in a lifetime.

 

As they stepped into the Shadow Chamber, the alien gate was fully powered up. It still showed the bizarre purple haze, an opaque black hole right in the center. Even now, stripped down to its barest components, it gave of a terrifying energy. Carter, Tygan and Shen were each behind control panels, checking on instruments and monitoring things.

“Ah, ladies, General,” Tygan said, nodding. “I'm glad you could come so quickly.”

“This is great news,” Shen said, her eyes glued to a monitor. “Don't wait – tell them!”

“Yes, of course. Ladies, I believe we have unlocked the secrets of the psionic gate.”

 

As if on cue, the gate opened, revealing Remnant. Weiss clearly recognized the ruins of Beacon which even now burned from its fall, feeling a lump swell up in her throat. It was so close, and so far away. She heard Yang and Pyrrha quietly gasp next to her. Were her eyes tearing up because she wanted to cry out of happiness, or because now it was real that her time here was coming to an end?

 

Not that she _wanted_ to be here, fighting aliens. But the people she had come to known, she would never see them again. All the people she had made friends with, those she had fought and bled with. She would have to leave them, forever. It was bittersweet, as leaving almost always was.

 

“Two years,” Yang muttered. “Two fucking years we've been waiting for this.”

“We really can-” Weiss said, forcing back tears. “We can really go home.”

Pyrrha's breaths remained short and stilted. “Seeing Beacon like this…it's surreal. Is this what it looks like now?”

“Ever since it fell,” Yang said.

Weiss turned to Yang, watching her return the look. Weiss could not hide her emotions – she smiled, letting a breathy laugh escape her mouth. The tears began to flow freely as Yang's eyes welled up as well, and they embraced one another, holding tight. It was _real._ Home was within sight.

 

“That's the good news,” Carter said. “Bad news is, we can't send you through it yet.”

Of course. There had to be a catch. Yang and Weiss broke from heir hug, facing Carter and the assembled Science Team. “Why's that?” Weiss asked.

“Tell me who to kill,” Yang shot back, her tears of sadness replaced by rage. “You want every alien dead? I'll fuckin' bring them to you, just line them up and give me ammo.”

O'Neill smirked, walking around to stand in front of them. “Are you sure we can't keep this one, Tygan? I'd love to have her on my side next time there's a war.”

 

Ignoring O'Neill, Carter stepped forward. "Well, I don't think we'll need to do much killing – not yet, anyway – but the way this works, we can't just send any old thing through. It needs the right genetic sequence. Anything else risks being torn to shreds.”

“Even better news,” O'Neill added. “Commander Okorie's lined up a special commando mission for you three. We're ready to hit the aliens where it's going to hurt. Time to hit the briefing room.”

O'Neill led them out of the Shadow Chamber, and right back to their familiar stomping grounds. A special commando mission? Weiss's head swam with possibilities. They had been doing raids of all sorts lately hunting for alien supplies and intelligence, and they've surely killed enough ADVENT generals to cause the aliens serious command issues.

 

Unusually, not only was the rest of Menace 1-5 in the briefing room, Killip's squad, Misfit 1-3, was present as well. At once, both squads stood to salute General O'Neill as he entered, but he dismissively waved back at them, telling them to stand down. A host of chairs rubbed against the floor as people settled back in.

“Alright people, Operation Dread Hydra,” O'Neill began, standing at the front of the room. It was unusual to see someone other than Captain Rex there. “We're ready to hit the aliens at their psionic network, right in the middle of it all.”

“Hold on,” Lt. Conagher said, raising a hand. “Y'all mean to tell me we're hitting the thing that links _all_ their soldiers together?”

“Oh yeah, with big fireworks and a parade. It'll be a fun time,” O'Neill said, deadpan. “More seriously, yes. This is ADVENT's central relay that commands all alien forces on Earth. We knock this out, we weaken every single ADVENT unit from here to Shanghai.”

 

“Isn't Shanghai only about forty clicks that way?” Engberg asked, jerking her head to the right.

O'Neill pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. “Okay, bad example. Anyway, point is we're going to ruin their command structure. Now, since this is such a heavily guarded outpost, Commander Okorie isn't too keen on sending a big squad, she's worried they'll get bogged down.”

Captain Rex nodded as he looked over the sketchy scans of the area. “I would agree. These walkways are very narrow.”

“Which is _why,”_ O'Neill continued. “We're only sending three soldiers. Okorie wants only Schnee, Nikos and Xiao Long on this one.”

 

“Wait a minute, sir,” Captain Rex said, immediately suspicious. “I have to protest, I am _not_ in favor of splitting up my squad, not at this critical a moment!”

“Right, I understand, Captain. There's a reason behind this – Menace 1-5 is attaching to Misfit 1-3 for a diversionary raid another district over.”

“General, I _must_ protest. I refuse to be subordinate to that _madman._ ”

O'Neill sighed, nodding. “You _won't_ be. Menace 1-5 has specific instructions to carry out any lawful order you give out. Right?”

 

O'Neill looked pointedly at Killip, who had been sitting with his arms folded the entire time. Killip remained stoic, nodding sharply. “Sir, yes, sir,” he sounded off.

In response, Rex grumbled, clearly still unhappy with the idea. “I suppose that's fine then.”

“Alright, now on to the meat of this whole shebang,” O'Neill said, switching to a new picture. This one showed the tower in slightly more detail, though it was still incredibly grainy. “From what Major Carter could tell – not really sure, didn't read the report – this tower is some kind of psionic amplifier. This also houses all the media they use to brainwash the people of Earth.”

 

Another picture. This showed the peak of the tower, infinitely high. A strange structure was built into the uppermost floors, with all manner of peaks emanating from its ornate glasswork.

“What you three will be doing,” O'Neill said, gesturing a pen to Yang, Weiss and Pyrrha, “is infiltrating the area and replacing the alien broadcast signals with our own. We're not a hundred percent sure here, but there's going to be all sorts of elite alien units here. Good luck, all of you.”

O'Neill saluted them, dismissing the three to gather up weapons and ammo.

 

Little could be left to chance – with just three of them, they needed to carry everything and keep themselves light, a counterproductive task in itself. Yang opted to carry enough grenades to destroy a city block, along with flashbangs to deal with enemy Sectoids. Weiss loaded her rifle with miniaturized armor-piercing ammunition, as well as aerosol-type medkits in case any of them got wounded. Pyrrha elected to carry the more specialized ammo, as well as tracer rounds to make sure Weiss and Yang knew where she was shooting. Speaking of ammo, Weiss had managed to find a way to stuff sixteen magazines on her person, far above her usual loadout of 6 plus one.

 

They were about ready to head out. Yang adjusted the strap on her rucksack, barely noticing the weight of the explosives it carried. “This is it, guys,” she said, confident as ever. “Who wants to go kill some aliens?”

_“Sergeant, corporals!”_ Rex's voice, even now, instilled a sense of fear into them despite following him into no less than two dozen battles and fighting alongside him. On instinct, they stiffened up, and he scowled as he prowled among them, carefully examining the three. Finally, his harsh frown softened into a genuine smile. “You know, when you three appeared on this ship, I thought it was a mistake. I thought none of you would survive, called you freeloaders. I'm proud to say I was wrong. You three are as brave and strong as the men I fought with at home.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Weiss saw Yang smile. “Thank you, sir.”

Rex's eyes became glassy, and he took a deep breath. “No, thank _you._ I don't have many brothers left, but I will gladly call all three of you my sisters. Good luck out there, _vode._ Knock a few off for me?”

“Six for each one of Menace they took from us,” Yang boasted.

 

He nodded sharply, putting on his helmet to hide how proud and emotional he was. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

Behind them, the Skyranger began to warm up. It was time to start taking revenge, destroy the aliens where they least expected it. Weiss looked at Pyrrha and Yang as they took off, finding the same steely determination in their eyes. This was it. This is what all of their training – as Huntresses, as soldiers of XCOM – had been building up to. Today, they would rise up like a breath exhaled from the Earth with a singular goal in mind.

 

They would avenge Earth, and extract their own brand of justice, finally return themselves to where they belonged.


	17. Night Witches

The Skyranger flew down swiftly, dropping Weiss, Pyrrha and Yang smoothly and undetected. The alien radars had been disabled for the moment, and thus their intrusion had not been detected. They could see no less than four alien squads patrolling on the only viable path to their objective, the walkway covered with Mutons, floaters, a handful of Codexes, and numerous Sectoids, all calm and unaware of them. At this height, the wind hit them harshly – Weiss felt as if she were going to be swept off the platforms at any second. The massive glass structure they had seen on the recon photos was even larger here, and Weiss found herself struggling to comprehend the purpose behind it.

 

“So, what's the plan here?” Yang asked, checking her shotgun for the millionth time.

“No doubt they'll hear the shots,” Pyrrha commented.

Weiss took note of the classic patrol-counterpatrol strategy the aliens were using. One squad was almost always in contact with another, and as such it'd be nearly impossible to isolate one of them for long.

“I can cover Yang as she moves up,” Weiss said. “Her shotgun is more than a match for those Mutons, even with their armor.”

“Right,” Pyrrha said, nodding. “It's the floaters I'm concerned about.”

Yang smirked, inching closer in anticipation to step off and start shooting. “Tygan's calling those things Archons. Can you believe it?”

“Well, no matter _what_ they are, we need to get rid of them quickly,” Weiss replied. “If Yang can close in, I can keep their heads down while you pick them off, Pyrrha.”

 

Pyrrha nodded, already shouldering her rifle and checking the ranges. “We'll have to do it. Ready?”

Yang and Weiss nodded. It was time to put their hastily-assembled plan into action. Like a ballet, each coordinated sequence went off without a hitch. Weiss found an excellent resting spot to steady her rifle, counting down to three with Pyrrha to fire the first shots. Once the aliens spotted Yang charging in, they tried to react, but were quickly either eliminated by a rifle shot or suppressed by Weiss. Yang blasted the Mutons immediately, sending one over the edge dramatically. The remaining enemy, a Sectoid, likewise was eliminated quickly. Checking to see that Pyrrha was following, Weiss began to move up, rendezvousing with Yang as she approached a 90-degree turn in the walkway.

 

“What's it look like?” Pyrrha asked, checking her magazine.

“Two sectoids, officer, and a Muton,” Yang reported. “Who wants what?”

“I'll take the officer,” Pyrrha said.

“The sectoids aren't a problem for me.”

Yang chuckled, rolling her shoulders. “Looks like I get to dance with the Muton.”

 

The division of labor clear, the trio moved out to tackle their respective enemies. The sectoids moved in concert with one another, screeching as Yang sprinted past them. Both began making elaborate gestures to raise one of the former comrades, but this fancy arm-waving only made it easier for Weiss to take them down. One solid shot from Pyrrha's rifle killed the officer before he could duck into cover. Weiss heard Yang screaming, but not out of pain. Rather, it was an inhuman battle cry, matching the Muton's roar as she poured shells into it. Weiss looked over to her right – their target was within sight. All they had to do was get there and put the broadcast in. Simple.

 

At least, it would be if the two Codexes who had remained in reserve had not decided to join the fray. Yang was the first to spot and call them out, soon followed up by shots from Pyrrha's rifle. One shot hit – one of the Codexes split off and a new one appeared in its place. Yang rushed forward, taking cover behind a sturdy-looking wall, pulling out a handful of grenades and priming each one, tossing them as far as her arm could throw. Teleportation abilities or no, the Codexes could not avoid the grenades, and as soon as copies appeared, they often were destroyed outright. One of the few survivors called down a rift, threatening to catch Yang in its blast, but she leaped and bounded over obstacles to avoid it. Weiss and Pyrrha did their best to support Yang, keeping the Codexes from moving freely as she advanced to engage them.

 

The last one fell with an electrifying screech, marking the end of this firefight. The building they were supposed to infiltrate now had a ruined entrance, excellent cover for any remaining aliens. Yang elected to keep throwing grenades, destroying this prime source of cover just in case there was a hidden squad they hadn't noticed. Pyrrha and Weiss linked back up with Yang, breaking into the ruined building to confirm their suspicions. It looked like they had cleared the area.

 

The console they were to hack stood in the middle of the room, relatively unscathed by Yang's grenade assault. Pyrrha took point in uploading the data and Yang and Weiss watched her back, but the entire process only took a few moments. Once done, Yang reported they were ready to head out. Within seconds, the Skyranger had arrived, landing right next to the open window that Yang's mass volley of grenades had broken. The ramp slid down to reveal Captain Rex, Freeman and Moira. Rex extended a hand to them, smiling.

 

“Great job, ladies,” he said. “One more, then we all go home.”

 

* * *

 

 

Nothing about this final mission was routine.

 

For one, Commander Okorie was by their side. Sort of – the science team had found a way to build an Avatar for her, and she would be using it to grant Menace 1-5 and Misfit 1-3 access to the alien facility they were to destroy. There was virtually no intelligence about where it was, only that it was under the water. By all accounts, it was ingenious – of _course_ they never found it, because nobody had thought to look in the seas.

 

As if having both Menace and Misfit was not strange enough, General O'Neill and Major Carter further rounded out the odd cast of assembled soldiers and officers. The fourteen stood assembled in front of the psionic gate, watching it prepare to open. Tygan and Shen were busy at work, maintaining the portal's stability. Each squad, each team had already gotten their weapons, checked ammo, and loaded up with as much as possible. The air was tense as psionic energy emanated around them, accentuated by Commander Okorie's repurposed Avatar suit maintaining the bond.

 

“You are XCOM,” Bradford said to them as the gate opened, revealing the alien facility. “You're gonna end this. Humanity is counting on us, people. Good luck, to _all_ of you.”

 

Yang swallowed, watching Commander Okorie step through the gate. Slowly, Moira, Feeman, Mike, and Hannah followed. One by one, they disappeared into the void, their bodies enveloped by the purple. The remainder of Misfit stepped through, and with General O'Neill and Major Carter the final two. Only Rex, Yang, Weiss and Pyrrha remained.

 

She rolled her shoulders back, taking a deep breath. The nervous energy within her was intoxicating, twisting and turning her stomach with every breath she took. It was as if she had a million pounds on her shoulders, crushing her chest. Rex took several heavy steps forward, turning back to look at them as he prepared to put his helmet on.

“Well, ladies,” he said. “It's time.”

 

Yang looked to Weiss and Pyrrha, both of whom had the same grim determination on their faces. There was no going back from this. She nodded, and felt her eyes well up. Every fear, every angry word, every hesitating moment she had ever faced built up to this. Bradford was right. Humanity _was_ counting on them. She had heard Tygan during the pre-mission checks. They didn't have another chance to do this if they failed.

 

And if they failed, they would likely all die.

 

Yang sharply nodded, walking in lockstep with Weiss, Pyrrha and Rex as they entered the gate. It was like she was never even in it – one second, she was in the _Avenger,_ and then she was…here. Wherever _here_ was. It was the facility they were to go to, deep underwater. This deep down, not even light came in – all illumination was provided solely by the alien technology that covered it from floor to ceiling. A bizarre light blue hue was all over.

 

“Stay alert, Commander,” Bradford advised as they reassembled on the other side of the gate. “We don't know if they're on to us yet.”

As if on cue, a bizarre purple square appeared in front of an ornate statue, showing ADVENT soldiers executing civilians and arresting people. Resistance camps could be seen being decimated as ADVENT mechanized units went on a rampage. Officers in the city began intense search-and-clear raids.

_“_ _Such loss,”_ someone said, their voice sounding far away and echoing. “ _Such needless waste. You force our hand. Yet still we offer peace. Rejoin us and your world will be spared.”_

“I know that voice,” Weiss said, visibly shuddering. “I…I heard it when the Avatar had me under mind control.”

 

“It is the Elders,” Commander Okorie said, her voice equally far away, as if she were a wraith visiting them instead of a person. “Do not listen to their propaganda. We must push forward and destroy them.”

The room they were in was massive. Posh wall decorations lined the walls, pulsating with green energy familiar to alien architecture, almost as if it were alive. Giant pillars and platforms dotted the area, with no discernible rhyme or reason behind them. Misfit took point, heading forward to secure the area. Tensions were high. Barely anyone talked. Even the usually talkative ones, like Mike and Freeman, were silent as gravestones. There was too much on the line for jokes and levity.

 

With Misfit declaring the area clear, both squads moved forward to a massive structure within it, containing green pods and more green décor. It looked like a science module of some kind, if Yang didn't know any better.

“ _You harbor such blind hatred for us, we cannot understand it. Our intentions for your world were never hostile. They are still not. You are part of_ _ **us.**_ **”**

“They actually expect us to buy any of this?” General O'Neill asked.

_“_ _More distrust. Perhaps you would find more reassurance in our words if...”_

The fact it could _hear_ them, that the Elders were _responding,_ somehow made Yang even more terrified. The pressure was overwhelming. Each part of her body was tightened up, waiting for something to happen. If she didn't do something to unleash this tension, she was afraid her entire body would break apart.

 

The words of the Elder taunted Yang as she moved forward with Menace 1-5. “If” what? It had teased an answer, and then withdrew before anyone could challenge it. There was no time to dwell on it, though. The first alien forces were spotted. Two stun lancers appeared next to a Specter, spotting them immediately. Numerous rifle shots rang out, punctuated by the sound of Pyrrha's sniper rifle and Loki's shotgun.

_“_ _So many lives risked to bring you back to us, Commander Okorie,”_ the Elder said. _“And for what? More violence. More war. More deaths. Truly you were meant for something more than this.”_

The Elder's propaganda was soon drowned out by gunfire as more ADVENT reinforcements stormed in. Groups of Mutons. A handful of Archons. A Codex out for blood. XCOM's orders and tactical information got drowned out as gunfire echoed in the science building, wrecking the consoles and examination tables alike.

 

“Commander, we're getting reports all across the globe,” Bradford said, his voice coming through clear on their comms. “ADVENT's hitting back hard. Our people are holding their own, but it's _not_ looking good. We need to do this and _fast!_ ”

“I do not need further encouragement!” Okorie shouted back, busy providing covering fire for Yang and Weiss.

Yang stole a glance to the side – Freeman was pinned by two different Mutons. “Fuck!” he yelled, trying to hide. “Anyone wanna help?”

As if on cue, a lancer rounded the corner as Yang and Weiss popped up, countering the Mutons and forcing them to back off. The stun lancer swung wildly at Freeman, missing by a mile.

 

“ _No!”_ Freeman said, blasting the alien with a shotgun he had picked up. “Not _you,_ damn it! You're no help at all, you're just breaking things! _I_ can do that, and I can do it better!” As if to prove a point, he stood up out of cover to shoot a Sectoid, hitting it…and also nailing what looked like some kind of console behind it. “Oops. Uh, that was to prove a point.”

“Focus!” Rex shouted, advancing as he fired his pistols rapidly.

The Specter collapsed into its pool, charging right for Mike. Like it had done with Freeman at the resistance camp, a perfect copy appeared as he collapsed to the floor, unconscious. The imposter's shots screamed past Yang's ears as she tried to fire and maneuver to help Misfit 1-3 tackle the fake Mike.

 

Yang lost track of time. The only thing she could think about was fighting, listening to the various callouts her teammates and Misfit shouted. Muton spotted. Specter moving. Archon killed. Move up, move up, move up. Suppress that fucker. Before long, there weren't even specific aliens anymore, just rogue foes that needed to be eliminated right the fuck now. Her shotgun became light, heavy, then light again as rounds went through it and she swapped out magazines. The thundering explosions of grenades, grenade launchers, and high-powered shotguns and sniper rifles broke any serenity that could be found here.

 

_“_ _ **Gatekeeper!!**_ ” Rex shouted, pointing to the same accursed ball that floated towards them menacingly.

_What the fuck. What_ _in_ _the fuck._ Hadn't they _killed_ this ting already? How did they have another one? **Why** did they have another one? The pressure had faded when they started fighting, but now, seeing this thing again, every emotion she had felt when Alan died came back in spades. This time, though, Yang was sure that she would be dying rather than Alan.

_“_ _Fuck me sideways!”_ Loki shouted, grabbing her grenade launcher.

 

Without even waiting, the Gatekeeper's shell opened, revealing its disgusting interior to the world. Yang sprinted into cover, trying to spot Weiss and Pyrrha. Where were they? Were they alright? It was impossible to tell. A massive tentacle cracked through the air, hitting Loki dead-on and grazing Freeman.

“Ah, Jesus! Shit! Fuck! Piss!” Freeman yelled, clutching his arm as he ran for cover. “That does it! All aliens are bastards, especially _you!_ ”

“Burgermeister down!” Killip bellowed. “Shoebox! Pick up her grenade launcher and keep moving!”

Yang was suddenly aware of her shortened breaths, staring at Loki's body. Was she…was she really dead? Her chest was covered in a massive black mark from the Gatekeeper's tentacle. It didn't look like Loki was moving anymore. _Oh god._ She didn't even have time to scream. Yang was brought of her panic by Weiss, who had suddenly appeared next to her.

 

“Yang?” Weiss asked, shots flying all around them. “Yang, we gotta keep going. Please?”

Forcing herself to control her breathing and nodding, Yang stood up, trying to keep a brave face on as she stared down the Gatekeeper. All at once, the sounds she had blocked out a second ago came back in force, overwhelming her. _This was no time to be scared,_ Yang resolved to herself. She had faced worst things before. Losing Blake. Losing her arm. She had already been at the lowest point possible. These fucking aliens wouldn't drag her down with them.

 

“How many of you fuckers are there?!” Freeman shouted, reloading his shotgun. “Do I need to engrave each of my bullets for you? I can do it! _Earth is a mineral-rich planet!_ I bet your planet _sucks!_ ”

Yang ignored Freeman's shouting as she ran past him, intent on engaging on the alien stun lancers at close range. This thing wanted to terrorize her? _Fuck it._ She would terrorize _it._ It tracked her with its single orange eye, glaring at her as if judging her for daring to attack. Her shotgun was heavy in her hands. _Good._ She was fully loaded and ready to rock. The sound of her shotgun and meaty noises of buckshot hitting the Gatekeeper's exposed flesh filled her ears. Offended, the Gatekeeper closed up, only to be further focused by Pyrrha. It shook, a clear sign it was about to explode. Mission accomplished.

 

This one was easier to take down than the last one. Maybe it was an incomplete model. Yang didn't know and didn't care. The last few reinforcements for this fight had been killed, at least. That was what mattered. She looked around her, seeing the devastation Menace 1-5 and Misfit 1-3 had wrought.

“You know,” Freeman said as they reloaded and prepared for the next room. “Computer errors are so lame. They're always 404 or 503. Why can't there ever be an Error 482? Somebody just shot the server with a 12-gauge. Please contact your administrator.”

“I used to think he was right about that fairies theory,” O'Neill said to Carter. “But now? Man, he's getting on my nerves.”

“Keep moving,” Commander Okorie ordered. “We are not done yet!”

 

There was but one more area ahead of them. It had four psionic gates that had large staircases before them, almost as if each one was an entrance to an altar. A massive, ornate fountain stood in the center of the room, with a tall, thick wall of some kind of glass with a pattern Yang did not comprehend built into it. Statues of what Yang assumed to be the Elders were everywhere, looking almost as if they were either praying or extending their hands out to help them.

 

_“Your form is but a shadow of our truth,”_ the Elders called, all speaking at once. _“We seek to defy that which would consume us all. Your efforts_ _ **deny**_ _the sacrifice of those who came before. You leave us no choice.”_

The fountain in the center of the room, which also held a platform, suddenly had a massive beam of purple energy called down upon it. From this appeared not one, but three Avatars. Archons rose up from the floor, as if from prayer, joined by too many Mutons to count.

“Hah, you screwed up now!” Killip screamed. “I am not trapped in a facility with you aliens, _you are trapped in here with_ _ **me!**_ _”_

 

“Focus fire on the Avatars!” General O'Neill ordered.

The Avatars sprinted and fired blindly as Archons rose to the sky to scatter the combined squads further. Yang spotted a gate opening up, where a group of Chryssalids rushed through, taking to the walls.

“ _More_ of you?!” Freeman yelled. “You're the reason we have napalm!”

The fight became a complete and utter blur. She heard shouting, that was for sure. She knew she heard gunshots, both her own, from Menace, from Misfit, and the enemy's. She heard Moira shouting in Gaelic. She heard the aliens yell and shout at each other. She heard the buzz of psionic energy as Moira and the Avatars battled in their fight for mental dominance.

 

Yang saw Rex's anger. She saw bullets fly from all sorts of weapons. She saw Moira's beam sent out to kill one Avatar. She saw the glass wall get destroyed when an enraged Avatar threw Killip through it, after he had stabbed it with his bayonet. She saw Lt. Conagher try to move his rifle up to shoot a Chryssalid, only for it to stab him in his chest.

 

Before long, the reckoning came. Killip picked himself up from the ground, and spotted his second loss. He pounded his chest, screaming like a man possessed. “If _God_ had wanted you to live _,_ ” he boasted, _“He would not have created_ _ **me!**_ _”_

“Second Avatar down!” Carter reported, reloading her submachine gun.

Unfortunately, more Chryssalids appeared. Freeman took it upon himself to stand on a table of some sort, shifting his fire from one group of Chryssalids to the other.

“ _Class is in session!_ ” he shouted. “Take your _seats!_ Take! Your! Seats! _Dammit, Billy, that means you too!_ _ **Take your seats!**_ _”_

 

“Corporals!” Rex shouted above the gunfire. “We need that Avatar dead before we get overrun!”

Yang saw an opportunity. The remaining Avatar had already been weakened by one of Moira's decaying orbs, but she was too exhausted to use another beam. There was only one thing she could do. Weiss saw it too – she used glyphs to speed Yang up on her charge to the Avatar. With the glancing shots Yang had taken, none of which hurt so far, her punch would probably do approximately a fuckton of damage. Just what she wanted.

 

Yang's fist connected with the Avatar's faceplate, breaking it outright. Dry, cracked skin was underneath, almost reminding Yang of Cinder. The Avatar careened across the room, and was quickly fired upon by anyone in range. A solid, authoritative shot from Pyrrha's rifle killed the final Avatar. Immediately, the gates began to flux, their purple mirrors behaving erratically.

“Get out of there!” Shen shouted over their comms. “Without the Elders stabilizing the psionic network, everything's going haywire! That gate won't hold much longer!”

With great speed, assisted by Weiss's glyphs, Menace and Misfit made their escape.

 

They were back on the _Avenger_ within mere seconds as Yang fell to the ground as she had basically thrown herself through the psionic gate. She looked up to see Weiss, Pyrrha, Menace, what remained of Misfit, General O'Neill and Major Carter all before her. Weiss and Pyrrha offered her a hand up, both of which she took gladly. Yang considered it a minor miracle that out of all those involved, they had only ever lost two.

 

Even those two were too many.

 

“Great job everyone,” Bradford said. “You all deserve a hell of a lot of drinks after that one.”

“We've all taken some hits, sir,” Captain Rex chimed in.

Yang looked among them. He was right. Nearly all of them had some amount of blood on their uniforms. Killip was practically soaked in it, whether it was his own or alien blood was unsure at this point. Weiss and Pyrrha both had minor grazes, but if their hits were throbbing as bad as hers, she was sure it was painful. Carter had a visible limp. Hannah was carrying Mike on her shoulder, keeping him upright.

“We'll get you all patched up in no time,” Bradford said. “The world owes you all a lot.”

 

* * *

 

 

The afterparty had lasted a week. Jubilant celebrations were to be had all over the _Avenger,_ from partying to commemorate beating the aliens to joyous occasions to remember the fallen, especially the recently deceased Loki and Lt. Conagher. Yang, Weiss and Pyrrha just slept, mostly, recovering from their constant fighting.

 

It was well-deserved.

 

She, Weiss and Pyrrha were in front of the psionic gate once more, but not as soldiers. They were going home. The excitement was palpable. She could barely believe it. All this time, fighting for XCOM, and now she could finally go home. They were back to normal as well, too, having changed into the clothes they had arrived in rather than hoping their new clothes and armor would survive the trip to Remnant.

 

“Thank you all for your services,” Bradford said. “I wish we could give you something to remember your deeds by, but I think the memories will have to do.”

“Thank _you_ for upholding your promises,” Weiss said, bowing slightly.

“Yeah, I doubted you guys for a while,” Yang commented.

Bradford smirked. “Yeah. I would have too. Well ladies, if there's nothing else. Tygan, open it up.”

 

Tygan opened the psionic gate, which by now could safely move Weiss, Yang and Pyrrha through without risking death. In line, they shook their commanding officer's hands, except…Pyrrha. Pyrrha had taken a step back. To say Weiss and Yang were surprised was an understatement, and they turned to her.

“Pyrrha?” Weiss asked. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” she said, tears already rolling off her cheeks. “I can't do this?”

 

Yang furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“I _died_ on Remnant,” Pyrrha said, her voice breaking. “What…what happens if I go back?”

“Maybe…maybe you – I don't know…” Weiss muttered.

“I didn't get the Spring Maiden's powers,” Pyrrha countered. “I…I can't risk it.”

 

Yang clenched her fists. God _dammit,_ why here, why _now?_ This was supposed to be good, for all of them. Pyrrha could finally rejoin them, help them with their fight against Salem. “After all we fucking did,” Yang said, trying not to start crying herself. “You want to back out _now?!_ ”

Pyrrha's shoulders shuddered, and she forced down tears and a hefty swallow. “I'm sorry. I don't belong there anymore, Yang. I…I think my place is here. There's still good to be done here on Earth.”

“General, Major,” Weiss said, her voice instilled with panic, “you can open the portal again, right?”

O'Neill shook his head. “No guarantee. Only chance we can see getting to Remnant.”

“The connection between Earth and Remnant is highly unstable,” Carter explained. “We'd have to spend more time figuring this out before we can go to Remnant again.”

 

Yang looked at Weiss, seeing her on the verge of tears. Yang wasn't blind to what this all meant. She wasn't ignorant enough to know what Pyrrha wanted. Yang sighed heavily, before turning back to look at Pyrrha. She was as determined about this as anything at Beacon.

“Goddammit,” Yang said, hugging her. “You idiot. I won't ever forget you.”

Sobbing freely, Pyrrha returned her friend's embrace. “I won't forget you either, Yang.”

Weiss joined in on the pity party, holding both women in her arms. “If this is what you want.”

 

“Please,” Pyrrha whispered. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Name it,” Yang said, fighting through the tears to keep her voice even.

“Don't tell Jaune. Please. If he knew I was alive…I think it'd break his heart.”

The three broke from the hug, with Weiss and Yang looking to each other unsure. Was that really the right move? Pyrrha may never know. Especially not if Pyrrha wasn't on her way to Remnant anytime soon. But, Yang couldn't have done it even if she wanted to. She respected Pyrrha too much to do that to her.

 

“Alright,” Weiss finally said. “We won't tell him. We…we really shouldn't tell anyone.”

“Yeah,” Yang agreed. “Who'd believe we spent two years fighting aliens anyway?”

Pyrrha's slammed her eyes shut, smiling even through her pain. “Thank you both so, _so_ much.”

 

“Alright,” O'Neill said. “Time to go. We don't have much time left.”

Yang and Weiss turned to face the psionic gate, which showed an otherwise lovely forest in Remnant, nice and peaceful. Not at all what they had known on Earth. Not what they had been living for so long.

“Deep breaths, Weiss,” Yang reminded, nudging her.

“Back home,” she muttered as she walked through the gate.

 

* * *

 

 

Weiss landed in a forest, bringing back memories of her first venture into Germany. This time, it was all familiar, from the far-off sounds of roaming Grimm to looking down and seeing her new clothes, still ruined by a hole from when she was stabbed.

“Weiss?” _Yang._

Weiss stood up, turning to see Yang as she should be. Her arm had been replaced by her metal one, back to smiling again. “We're really back,” Weiss said, already crying.

“Yeah, we really are.”

They hugged for who knows how long, just happy to be back home. Even if it wasn't where they had started, it didn't look like much had changed. Yang later told Weiss this was about where she had been when she suddenly found herself on Earth, looking for Weiss in this very forest. From here, they tracked a path back to their new temporary home.

 

“Do you think anyone's still here?” Weiss asked as they neared the house.

“They better be,” Yang said, half-joking. “I'm gonna have to beat Oz up if he left without us.”

By now, the sky had darkened, and only a few lights could be seen from the inside. Weiss hoped that their friends and family were all there. If not, how long would it take to track them all back down? As Yang opened the door, it looked like not much had changed.

 

Someone was walking towards them from downstairs. It was Ruby, half-asleep and in her pajamas. “Hello?” She stopped mid-yawn, her mouth agape and her eyes wide as dinner plates. “Yang! Weiss! You're back!”

“Of course,” Weiss said, practically tackled by Ruby. “How…how long we were gone?”

“I think it was two weeks?” Ruby said. “Where were _you,_ Yang? We thought you got lost.”

“Oh, uh,” Yang stammered, trying to think up a good excuse. “I, uh, I split off. Kept searching on my own, you know?”

 

“Well, great!” Ruby squealed. “But Weiss! Where did _you_ go?”

“You know,” Weiss blatantly lied. “I don't really know.”

“Found her wandering in the woods like a lost kid,” Yang said, reinforcing the lie. “Can you believe it?”

Ruby's face suddenly became filled with panic. “Oh jeez, you didn't have to fight any Grimm, did you?”

“Maybe a few,” Yang said, winking.

“Like you wouldn't _believe.”_

For now, at least, things were back to Moira. No more aliens, no more ADVENT, no more XCOM, no more Moira, Freeman, Ana, Rex, O'Neill, Price, no more G36Cs or Saiga 12Ks…

 

No more Pyrrha.

 

And certainly no more talking about the war they had just fought that nobody would understand. The war Weiss and Pyrrha had helped win.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, while going through her things, Weiss found something odd. She didn't recall ever having a picture before, not one like this anyway. She only saw the back, which was blank and offered no clues about its origins. Curious, Weiss turned it over to reveal Menace 1-5, right before Pyrrha had joined them permanently. It must have been before the mission at the alien forge, but she didn't recall anyone having lined them up like this. Everyone was there – Alan, Mundy, Rex, Freeman, herself, Yang and Pyrrha, all looking confident and ready to face any threat in front of them.

 

“Hey, Weiss,” Yang said, walking into her room. “Do you-”

Her words were cut short as she gasped. Weiss looked up to see Yang had a picture of her own – the exact same one, in fact. They compared the two, but found no differences except one. Yang's had writing on the back. Someone had written _“To my sisters from another planet – Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.”_

 

Yang didn't know what this phrase meant, but it had been forever etched into Weiss's mind. She remembered Captain Rex had said this almost daily after Alan and Ludwig had passed, and she heard it uttered by him after they destroyed the final alien facility. She had asked him what it meant before they left.

 

Not gone, just marching far away.


End file.
